


What Does it Matter When the End is So Close

by AChairWithAPandaOnIt



Series: The Happenings Of A Not Dead Thing [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Horcrux Hunting, Inferi, Muggle Technology, Muggles, Regulus Black Lives, muggle science is actually pretty amazing, regulus gets saved by muggles, the muggle organisation is the military, they're even more concerned to learn about the immortal man who made the zombies, they're pretty concerned about the zombies, wizards should give muggles more credit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2019-11-29 13:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18223574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AChairWithAPandaOnIt/pseuds/AChairWithAPandaOnIt
Summary: “Zombies are…” The man started “dead people. They’re people that are dead but…animated…yes, animated, that’s probably the best word to describe it. They’re animated dead people. Not like animated as in cartoons, but animated as in walking, groaning, biting dead people.”“You mean inferi?” Regulus breathed out. He clutched at his arms, remembering their gripping, grabbing, skeletal hands. Dead eyes-watching him hungrily-decaying jaws-biting into him-rotting flesh-peeling off-squelching into his fingers.“Probably…what were they doing there?”They bit and ate and grabbed and scratched, pulled and wrenched and screeched and bled.“The Dark Lord made them…to deal with trespassers I suppose.”Regulus Black didn't expect to survive the cave. He expected even less to wake up in a muggle hospital and have help forced upon him by a muggle organisation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Regulus is one of my favourite Harry Potter characters despite the fact that JK has given us probably about a line on him so I decided to try my hand at a Regulus lives au. Also, ignore the inconsistencies with the timeline and technology. The idea of Regulus trying to work his way around a TV, or a laptop, or a phone, is too good to pass up because of the timeline.
> 
> Also, Regulus quickly goes from 'maybe muggles aren't as bad as mother's always said' to 'this muggle's annoying so they're all horrible' to 'I like one muggle the rest are trash, especially the really annoying one' to 'some muggles are good, some muggles are bad, the annoying one is especially bad'.
> 
> The rest of the chapters won't be as short as this one. This one's pretty much the prologue.

Regulus never expected to survive. He’d come to the cave with the awareness that he wouldn’t make it out of there, with the awareness that he didn’t want to make it out of there.

He’d taken a transfigured boat to the cave, Kreacher sitting beside him, and he hadn’t wanted to live for much longer.

He’d drawn a blade across his arm, across his dark mark, and pressed it against the hard rock. And maybe he’d been a bit careless in his cutting, maybe he’d been a bit too enthusiastic, a bit too raw with regret, but it didn’t matter because he was going to die anyway.

He’d yanked on the chain until the boat rose from the water and then he’d clambered inside of it, trying his best not to stare at the monsters lurking beneath the surface of the lake. They moved and splashed and came frightfully close to him, dead bodies bobbing against the bottom of the boat. He’d always been scared of water. Still, it didn’t matter all that much – he wouldn’t have to wait too long before he no longer had to think about it.

He’d drained the potion into his mouth and drank and drank and…he drank. Ice slid down his throat, suffocating him, maddening him, and he drank. He drank until the goblet was no longer full – and Kreacher said something – but he wasn’t really listening – and all he could hear was his mother’s screeches, his brother’s anger, his father’s silence, and water, water, water.

The cold lake lay before him, held still with promises of death. Regulus wanted death. Regulus sobbed. Regulus drank. He crawled forward with all the energy left inside of him and cupped his hands to the water’s surface, brought the water to his mouth.

Regulus drank.

Regulus drowned.

Rotting bodies lurching forward, grasping, pulling. His chin banged against rock as he fell and then he was submerged, kicking and screaming. And screaming. And screaming. And screaming. And screaming. It didn’t matter if he was going to die anyway, it didn’t matter if he didn’t have long left.

He’d always been scared of water. He knew something much worse than water now.

An inferius grabbed at his face, decayed fingers digging and peeling and trying to make him like it. A dead thing. Regulus was going to be a dead thing like it. Regulus screamed. He kicked and screamed and elbowed and dug at every solid thing he could find with his fingernails and they were torn and bleeding and aching and he was aching and he dug at everything he could.

Regulus didn’t want to be a dead thing. Regulus couldn’t be a dead thing, not like It. Regulus-

Regulus felt bony hands grasp at him.

‘No’, he thought.

“No!” he sobbed.

“Master Regulus!” something cried. And then he wasn’t underwater any longer.

He collapsed to his knees and gripped at the grassy hillside, gasping for breath.

“Master Regulus…” Said something, and that something was Kreacher.

“No.” Regulus breathed out. It was all too much. He was shaking, he knew, and he just needed a moment to recollect himself – just a moment to build himself up from the mess he had become – and _then_ he could deal with Kreacher and the horcrux. And _then_ he could end it.

Regulus inhaled deeply and screwed his eyes shut. Tightly. As tightly as possible. He felt his bottom lip wobble ominously, a sure sign that he was going to break down. But he couldn’t afford to break down, not after what he’d just done. He dug his fingers into the hillside, feeling mud and grass give way beneath them.

The grasping, digging motion reminded him of the inferi – of their hands digging at him wherever they could – and he felt so much more aware of the ache in his body. The bruises and cuts and grazes and the burning, freezing, numbing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The potion, he realised.

And then he laughed. Because, of course, what else was there left but for this?

He laughed until laughter turned to crying, and then he cried until crying turned to hysteria. And in his hysterics he took the horcrux from Kreacher and sent him away – and told him to act as if nothing had happened, to tell no one of what happened – and then he set the thing – the dark, evil, tainted thing – in front of him and he reached into his pocket for his wand and there was…

Nothing.

There was nothing.

No wand, nothing.

He felt foolish, ice cold dread washed over him. It should have been obvious that he had lost his wand amongst the inferi.

For a moment he thought of going back to the cave – of diving into the water and looking for the wand. Afterall, what is a wizard without a wand?

 _(A dirty muggle,_ his mother would respond _, dirty and savage, without any recognition of civilisation_

_Regulus wasn’t too sure of that anymore though,_

_If anyone was dirty and savage then it had to be the dark lord, because he had made a horcrux and a horcrux was the dirtiest of magic – the dimmest, the dullest. The kind that was so bad that Regulus was sure even his mother would feel sickened)_

But then he thought of the inferi and he knew he couldn’t go back there.

Regulus scrubbed at his eyes with his wet sleeve. It didn’t really do much in the way of drying his face but at least it was something to do. He eyed the locket with despair.

“Avada Kedavra.” He muttered. Nothing happened, but he knew nothing would happen. He couldn’t even cast the spell when he _did_ have a wand. He was useless. The numbness of his stomach seemed to be spreading. It was running along his veins like wildfire, like a less painful crucio.

There was no way he’d be able to apparate away in this state. And he’d already sent Kreacher off.

The potion would kill him eventually and he still had the horcrux to deal with. Except it would probably be impossible to deal with when he didn’t have a wand. And _why_ hadn’t he researched how to destroy it properly? Why had he charged on ahead like this.

It was such a Sirius thing to do. Regulus groaned and rubbed at his eyes again.

He knew it wouldn’t be destroyed by ordinary means. And that was about it. That was all he knew.

Merlin, he was so stupid.

He felt his grip on reality slip ever so slightly, his vision going blurry. This wasn’t fair, he thought, he’d barely gotten to live his life, it just wasn’t fair that he would go out like this.

Going ahead and doing this, rebelling, rebelling for the first time in his life, it felt right. It felt so much better. A part of him had always known that he wouldn’t live a long life though.

He wasn’t destined for that. Not for life – not for…for happiness. Or love. Or anything really.

Those kinds of things were for Sirius. And Regulus had been doomed to die like this as soon as he’d breathed his first breath of air.

Or maybe it was when Sirius first started ignoring him, when Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, when Sirius had given up on him. Because it had been stupid of Regulus to even contemplate the idea that he was living his life for himself, that he mattered. Sirius was the important one, everything revolved around Sirius.

“Are you alright?” Someone asked. They had a Northern dialect, which made sense because this _was_ the North.

Regulus blinked hazily and stared up at whoever it was. They were just a blur of blue and brown.

“Hey, hey, kid? Kid, are you al-“

The potion was finally taking its full effect. He didn’t have long. He collapsed in on himself and he felt something try to hold him up. But he could barely feel. And he couldn’t hear.

Regulus closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have the second chapter written haha. This happens every single time I start writing something new. Also, I haven't got a clue how hospitals work so please just roll with it if it seems unrealistic at points. I looked some things up to give it some semblance of reality but it's hard to know where to look for some information.

_beep_

_beep_

_beep_

_beep_

_beep_

 

Regulus groaned and turned over, burrowing his face into his pillow. It smelt strange – sterile – like that time he opened his great great great grandfather’s pocket watch and had to go to St. Mungo’s.

 

_beep_

 

He frowned. Where was that beeping coming from?

 

_beep_

_beep_

_beep_

Regulus turned back over and attempted to open his eyes. It was harder than he expected, it felt as if he had been sleeping for a while. Bright, white light crept into his vision and he quickly squeezed his eyes closed.

There was a short huff of laughter somewhere to his right. Obviously, someone was finding his pain humorous.

He slowly eased his eyes open, allowing them to adjust to the light, and turned his head. He seemed to be in a hospital bed, though this place was _not_ St. Mungo’s. It was too bright for one – the lights in St. Mungo’s adjusted magically to however the patient needed them – and it looked much too…strange.

The beeping was coming from a boxy…thing. The box-like thing – which looked to be made from metal – had a small screen built into it, which showed a moving green line. It was moving in time with the beeps.

He stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“A heart monitor.” The room’s other occupant said and Regulus started, heart beating wildly. He’d forgotten about them.

The person was a dark-haired man, quite a bit older than Regulus, decked out in muggle clothing. He was lounging in a chair next to the bed, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised, smirking at Regulus in amusement.

Regulus could already tell, from just one look, that he was going to hate him.

“You looked confused so…” the man elaborated, lips twitching as if Regulus was the funniest thing he’d ever come across “that’s a heart monitor.” He gestured at the metal box before crossing his arms back over his chest, settling back into the chair to stare at Regulus.

Regulus glared at him and turned over to go back to sleep. The man just snorted at that.

And then it dawned on Regulus that this room had all the horrendous contraptions that his mother had always said muggle hospitals had – the strange box thing, a flat rectangle thing up on the wall, bright blinding lights. He quickly brought his hand up to check for tubes and, sure enough, there was a tube attached to his hand. Regulus brought his other hand up to grab it, preparing to yank it out and-

“I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Said the man. The man who was apparently a muggle, considering this was a muggle hospital and he was wearing muggle clothing.

Regulus yanked the tube out. Muggles were annoying.

Immediately he regretted it because his hand started bleeding. The man sighed dramatically and got up from the chair before leaving the room.

This muggle was so annoying. Regulus rolled his eyes, clamping his right hand over the injury in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It didn’t really help much, and his blood was leaking onto the bed.

“Get up, get up.” Said a woman, grabbing him by the shoulders and helping him to sit up. She sounded annoyed.

“I swear, if one more patient pulls their IV out…” she tittered, trailing off ominously as she bandaged his hand.

“Anyway,” she said, after the hand was all bandaged up “you seem healthy enough to properly eat now. I’ll check with Dr. Howard but I doubt we really need to re-attach the IV.” Then she dragged him off of the bed and forced him into a chair. Regulus squinted after her as she went about changing the sheets, ranting about IVs under her breath.

A dark shadow fell over him and Regulus looked up to see the muggle man, leaning against the wall right next to the chair, ever-present smirk on his face. Regulus glared. The man snickered.

“So…zombies?” The man said, raising an eyebrow.

Regulus frowned.

“You know…the zombies? In the cave?”

“What the hell is a zombie?” Regulus asked. He wasn’t really sure he wanted to know the answer though.

The man looked down at him with disbelief, which honestly wasn’t that much better than his annoying smirks.

“Back in the bed now.” The woman said, grabbing Regulus by the arm and forcing him back into the bed. Regulus spluttered in annoyance but allowed it. He didn’t think he would get very far if he tried to fight her on this. She tucked him in, berated him on pulling out the tube (which was apparently called an IV), nodded towards the man, and then left the room.

“A zombie is a fictional creature.” The man said, sitting back down in the chair “They don’t exist. However,” he paused and looked at Regulus intently “when you were brought in here the doctors found evidence of poison on you. And that poison was found in a cave nearby where you were found by a local. And in that cave there were zombies.”

Cave. That sounded familiar. Regulus looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. Cave.

He’d went to a cave hadn’t he. He’d went to a cave to do something. To…

Regulus’s head snapped up and he turned to look at the man with wide eyes.

“The locket.” He said hurriedly “Where’s the locket!”

The man blinked at him in surprise “You mean this thing?” he said, picking something up off of the end table. The ugly, battered, gold of Slytherin’s locket – eroded, likely, by the potion and the horcrux – gleamed darkly under the bright hospital lights.

“Yes! Yes that!” Regulus cried out, reaching to grab the locket from the man’s hand. But the man just pulled it out of his reach.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He said smilingly “Not until you tell me about the zombies.”

Regulus felt rage bubble up inside of him. How dare this man – no, how dare this _muggle_ treat him like a child. This was exactly why the Dark Lord was out there, killing mudbloods left and right. Because muggles were so damn annoying.

“Give. It. To. Me.” Regulus said slowly.

The man raised his eyebrows.

“If you want it you have to tell me about the zombies.” He said.

“Fine,” Regulus replied icily “just as soon as you tell me what a zombie is.”

The man maintained the eye contact for a few more seconds before standing from his chair. He walked slowly over to the other side of the room and stood on his tiptoes, placing the locket on top of the flat rectangle fixed to the wall. Regulus realised with annoyance that he wouldn’t be able to reach it.

“I’m gonna go on a limb here and guess you don’t know what a TV is.” The man remarked, smirking over at him. This was probably the least helpful thing he could say – Regulus didn’t care what the rectangle was and giving it a name wasn’t going to make him any more interested.

“Just get on with it.” He ground out.

“Sure, sure.” The man said, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall.

“Zombies are…” He started “dead people. They’re people that are dead but…animated…yes, animated, that’s probably the best word to describe it. They’re animated dead people. Not like animated as in cartoons, but animated as in walking, groaning, biting dead people.”

“You mean inferi?” Regulus breathed out. He clutched at his arms, remembering their gripping, grabbing, skeletal hands. Dead eyes-watching him hungrily-decaying jaws-biting into him-rotting flesh-peeling off-squelching into his fingers.

“Probably…what were they doing there?”

They bit and ate and grabbed and scratched, pulled and wrenched and screeched and bled.

“The Dark Lord made them…to deal with trespassers I suppose.”

There was a shuffling sound, and then a clunk. Regulus looked down to see the locket resting on top of his lap. He ran his fingers slowly over the tainted thing.

The door to the room opened and then shut. He was left in silence.

* * *

 

“Soo…Dark Lord? What’s all that about?”

“Go away.” Regulus hissed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the man. He had left him alone ever since their discussion two days ago and Regulus had been hoping it would be a permanent thing.

The man just snickered at him and sat himself in the chair.

“I’m Daniel.” He said, holding out his hand “Daniel Hold.”

Regulus looked at the hand with disgust.

“Regulus.” He bit out.

Hold seemed to find that hilarious. All the mudbloods had also seemed to find it hilarious back at Hogwarts. Thinking of Hogwarts, Christmas break was probably over. Not that it mattered when the Dark Lord was most definitely out for his blood.

“Regulus is a regular name where you regularly come from then?” Hold asked, watching Regulus’s face with pure glee. Regulus’s eye twitched.

“Of course.” He lied.

It wasn’t really much of a lie though. Even if he had never met another person called Regulus he _had_ met people with even stranger names than his own. Take Barty for instance. Now _that_ was a strange name.

“So are we gonna talk about this Dark Lord guy or what?” Hold asked after he had calmed down enough from the apparent hilarity that was Regulus’s name.

Regulus grimaced at the muggle.

“Why should I tell you about him.” Regulus muttered, turning over and pulling the blanket over himself.

“You can’t just avoid your problems by ignoring me.” Hold said bluntly.

“Yes I can.” Regulus replied, closing his eyes.

“No you can’t.”

“Yes I can.”

“You’re not doing a very good job at ignoring me though, are you?”

He had a good point there, Regulus supposed. If he was supposed to be ignoring Hold then the best way to go about it would not be answering back. It didn’t take long for Hold to get bored of his silence.

“Regulus.” He called.

After a few more minutes of silence Hold sighed. Then there was a shuffling noise and a click. More clicks. A loud voice filled the room.

“Oh Chad.” The voice was a woman’s. The accent American. It was awful “I wish we could be together. But you know my dad, he doesn’t like cool guys like you.”

“What in the name of Merlin is this?” Regulus groaned, pushing the blanket down and looking for the source of the voice. There, on the rectangle mounted to the wall – a TV, Hold had called it a TV the other day – was a photograph. A photograph with sound.

“Is it meant to do that?” Regulus asked incredulously over the sound of the woman’s horrendous accent.

“What? Move?” Hold said “Of course you Amish cave dweller.”

Regulus wasn’t sure what the word Amish meant but he knew without a doubt that it was an insult. He decided to come back to it later.

“No. Obviously it’s meant to move. Why’re the people talking?”

Hold looked at him as if he was an idiot, pointing a small black thing at the TV. The screen turned black.

“What’s the point if they’re not talking.” He said “TV’s meant to be fun and, yeah, I’m sure there are people out there that like silent movies, but it’s a lot more entertaining when you know what’s going on.”

Regulus blinked.

“You…muggles…” Regulus wasn’t really sure how he felt about this “… _muggles_ …of all people, _muggles_ managed to make photographs talk.”

“The hell’s a muggle?”

Regulus turned to look at Hold, who was looking at him with interest. He narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing that concerns you.” He said.

Hold raised his eyebrows and gave a pointed look towards the locket on the side table “Your secrets are all well and good, Regulus,” he said “but we can take that locket away anytime we want.”

Regulus eyed the locket with concern.

“We?” he asked.

Hold sighed and looked away.

“Look,” he said “we can do this the easy way or the har-“

The door banged open.

“Captain Hold!” A woman shouted. She was short, a little older than Regulus, with black skin, her frizzy hair tied up in a ponytail “Elain bet Tibers that she could get a chocolate bar from the vending machine by punching in the code with bullets! Please stop her!” she sounded harried.

“Shit!” Shouted Hold. He jumped out of his chair and met the woman at the door “Please stay with Regulus, I’ll deal with it.”

“Regulus?” The woman asked, lips twitching in a tell-tale sign of humour.

“Yes, Regulus.” Hold said, mirth in his voice “Funny name, I know.” And then he patted her on the shoulder and legged it out of the room. Regulus heard a cry of ‘Elain, you twat!’ then four loud bangs before the door shut behind the woman.

“Eerr…” The woman said awkwardly, lingering by the door. She shifted from side to side then slowly made her way across the room.

“I’m Hill,” she said, holding her hand out “Private Hill.” She grinned but it wasn’t anything like Hold’s grin. It was awkward and nervous and despite his annoyance at his capture Regulus found himself liking her.

He extended his hand to shake hers and she calmed down marginally. She still looked awkward though.

“You…you can sit down you know…” Regulus mumbled uncertainly, glancing between her and the chair. She squeaked.

“Yep! Yes! That is a thing I can do!” Hill shouted before perching on the end of the bed with all the nervousness of a mouse. That wasn’t really what Regulus had meant. He coughed awkwardly.

Hill looked away from him, biting her lip. It was almost as awkward as the time Regulus had caught Lupin and Sirius snogging in the trophy room in third year.

“Soooo…” Hill started after a good five minutes “…you have a girlfriend?”

Regulus stared at her in bewilderment. He shook his head.

“I have a girlfriend.” She said. Regulus blinked. That was the exact sort of thing that his mother hated, he wasn’t entirely sure why though.

“Is she nice?” He asked awkwardly, looking out of the window. They were on the third floor. The trees were green, which was worrying considering they hadn’t had leaves when he had entered the cave.

Hill looked a little sheepish “Yeah, she’s perfect.” She said “Well, she’s perfect when she isn’t shooting at vending machines.”

Ah. The person that was trying to get the chocolate bar using bullets, whatever those were. Regulus wasn’t quite sure why she couldn’t just go to a store and buy one. Muggles had lots of stores, they were everywhere.

“What’s a vending machine?” Regulus asked when the silence became too awkward.

“Hm?” Hill blinked, looking away from the window in surprise.

“A vending machine.” Regulus cringed “What is it? And for that matter is your name really Private?”

Hill blinked even more, then her lips twitched upward.

“Oh, Jesus Christ! No! My name’s Constantine!” She laughed. Regulus narrowed his eyes.

“Then why did you say it was Private?”

“That’s my rank.” She said, smiling at him. Regulus looked at in confusion.

“Rank?” He asked.

Hill nodded her head.

“Yeah,” she said “in the military.”

Regulus paused. The military? What was that? It sounded a little like ministry. Maybe she actually meant ministry. Assuming by Hold’s use of the word ‘we’ that there were more than just the two – no, the four, he had to count Elain and Tibers too, even if he hadn’t met them – of them then it could well be the muggle ministry that had captured him. Hill had called Hold ‘captain’ earlier, which suggested he was of higher rank. The leader, perhaps.

No wonder he was so annoying.

Headmaster Dumbledore was the leader of the light and he was also irritating. And the Dark Lord was irritating in the fact that he was the reason Regulus was even in this situation. Maybe it was just a leader thing.

“We were assigned to the zombie case, you see.”

Regulus looked over at her in surprise.

“They were really creepy. It was like something right out of a horror movie,” Hill shuddered, bringing a hand up to trace over the window “they didn’t do anything, just bobbed up and down in the water, moved sluggishly. But you were in there with them, weren’t you.”

He was. Regulus felt sick. He released a heavy breath and clutched his arms around himself tightly.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Regulus.” She said.

“It’s fine.” Regulus replied, shifting down in the bed. He remembered how Hold had told him earlier that he couldn’t avoid his problems through ignorance. This wasn’t ignorance though, he just didn’t want to talk right now. Regulus pulled the blanket over his head and pressed his face into the pillow.

He felt Hill get up from the bed and then a pat on his head. There was a clicking sound and what he now recognised to be the TV turned on, just as loud as it had been earlier.

“Chad!” gasped the woman.

“Shit!” swore Hill, and then the volume turned down to a barely heard murmur. There was a shifting sound and the bed dipped, Hill taking up her previous spot. It was oddly comforting.

“Sorry.” She whispered.

Regulus shrugged minutely under the sheets.

Eventually he heard the sound of the door opening. Hold’s voice said something. The TV clicked off. Hill’s footprints echoed across the quiet room. The door shut. Regulus drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constantine is a beautiful cinnamon roll, I love her. And her girlfriend who's probably gotten them kicked out of the hospital. Also, you may notice that Reg only gave his first name. This is because he didn't want to give his full name to his captors. But, you know, he's related to Sirius Black so of course he gave the more recognisable part of his name out.
> 
> Also Regulus is too stubborn. He was originally going to tell the muggles everything in this chapter but he's so stubborn it's going to have to be extended over two.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait till Saturday to post this but I literally don't have that kind of patience. The chapter after this one is half done as well, I hope I can actually wait to post that one.

Regulus had to admit that he was curious. Not just about the fact that he was alive, but also about the TV.

He took the small rectangle thing from the side table and pointed it at the TV. Nothing happened.

Of course, Hold had pressed something on it, so Regulus would also need to press something. There was a big circle in the middle of it, Regulus pressed it, nothing happened. Next he tried the plus sign, which also didn’t work. And then the minus sign. This did nothing too.

Finally, he pressed on the button at the top left of the thing.

The TV turned on, emanating the same soft murmurs from the day before. But there was no call of Chad, no annoying American accent. Instead there was a group of monkeys.

“What makes us human, may not be uniquely human, after all.” Said an old man’s voice over a backdrop of music. The screen zoomed in on a baby monkey.

“There are wild monkeys all around the world,” the man said, a moving image of a monkey in a tree appearing on the screen “yet, only recently have we discovered just how extraordinary they are.”

A line of text came up. It read ‘clever monkeys’ in capital letters.

Regulus couldn’t help but get hooked. This David Attenborough person had a very soothing voice and muggle photographs seemed to be so much more captivating than wizarding ones.

It also helped that the monkeys were very cute. Regulus kind of wanted a monkey now, not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

He’d always brushed monkeys and other muggle creatures off as boring because they didn’t have magic, yet these monkeys didn’t seem boring at all. They fought, and lived, and acted, and looked so much like humans – well, primitive humans – and David Attenborough kept referring to them as if they were related to humans. Regulus could see where he was coming from.

Before, if someone had said that monkeys and humans were similar, Regulus would have outright denied it. But now he felt as if he should be defending them.

They were a lot more clever than wizards gave them credit for. A bit like muggles, he supposed, because they must have done something to him to stop the poison from killing him, and whatever they had done seemed to have worked.

The music grew sad as the monitor lizard dragged a dead monkey away. Regulus’ heart sank.

“We can’t know what they’re thinking,” said Attenborough solemnly “but they behave in a way that we imagine we recognise.”

And then.

“Another of the troop has been killed in a fight. He was the leader. It was a battle for control of the group. They are unusually silent as they gather around. The new leader watches from the side, his injuries ignored, he does not interfere.”

The photograph was getting very depressing. Regulus watched as the monkeys fussed over the dead leader and Attenborough talked about what a caring father he had been. The music kept getting sadder.

“Why the long face?” someone asked.

Regulus jumped.

He looked up – it was Hold, Hill standing nervously behind him. There was a man and a woman standing at the door – presumably Elain and Tibbers.

The woman – Elain – had blonde hair and a strict face, everything about her seemed to scream auror. Regulus had trouble imagining her shooting at whatever a vending machine was for a chocolate bar. Tibbers was a small man – though not as small as Hill – and older than his female companions, yet not as old as Hold. He had short cropped ginger hair and looked vaguely annoyed to be there. Regulus could understand that.

Regulus looked away from Hold’s hideously annoying face and out of the window.

“The monkey died.” He admitted, crossing his arms.

Hold snickered. Regulus scowled.

He turned away from the window, gave Hold a quick glare, fished the small box (which acted a little like a wand, he supposed. He thought vaguely of attempting to set fire to Hold’s eyebrows with it) out from the blankets, and turned the TV off. Then he slowly set it down on the side table.

“That’s a remote by the way.” Hold said.

“Thank you.” Regulus said tersely, not sounding thankful in the slightest.

“I like watching David Attenborough too.” Hill piped up from behind Hold, smiling awkwardly at Regulus. Regulus eyed her for a few seconds then nodded. Over by the door, Tibbers sighed. Elain remained in perfect form, back straight, eyes trained directly on Regulus.

“You ready to tell us about this Dark Lord guy then?” Hold asked, sitting down in the chair next to the bed and staring Regulus down with a smirk. Hill looked nervously from Regulus to the end of the bed for a few seconds before moving to stand beside Hold.

“Not really.” Replied Regulus.

“That’s a shame.” Said Hold.

“Yes.” Said Regulus “I suppose it is.”

Tibbers shifted a little, expression growing more annoyed by the second.

Regulus would have turned over and pulled the blanket over his head by now if he wasn’t so sure that Hold would take it as an invitation to put the strange photograph with the American woman and ‘Chad’ on. Instead, he just stayed silent.

Tibbers kept shifting. Hill was also shifting, though it seemed more out of nervousness than annoyance.

Finally, Tibbers broke “For God’s sake! Stop being a stubborn ass!” he said angrily, hands clenching.

“Yes, I would also enjoy it if you stopped being a stubborn ass.” Elain said seriously, still perfectly collected.

“I think everyone would enjoy it if he stopped being a stubborn ass.” Sighed Hold.

Hill pursed her lips.

“Have you tried asking nicely?” she asked.

“Of course I have.” Hold said.

Regulus scoffed, glaring at him.

“You’re full of Hippogriff dung.” He grumbled. Sadly, this did not insult Hold (likely because he was a muggle and had, therefore, never come across Hippogriff dung and, therefore, didn’t know just how badly it smelt). It did, however, cause him endless amusement.

He snorted, body shaking with contained laughter. Elain’s composure suddenly broke and she clutched around her middle with a bark of laughter. Tibbers just looked confused, which was better than angry.

Hill was obviously trying not to laugh. She wasn’t doing a very good job at it.

So, in trying to insult the annoying muggle, Regulus seemed to have made a laughing stock of himself once again.

Regulus’ nose scrunched up in annoyance.

“If you don’t shut your Merlin-damned mouth I _will_ throw this horcrux at you.” He threatened Hold, grabbing the locket off of the side table and holding it up with an arm that shook with anger.

“Okay, okay.” Laughed Hold, holding his hands up defensively.

“What’s a horcrux then?” He asked after a few seconds.

Regulus threw the horcrux at him. It never hit Hold’s face, where Regulus had been aiming. He caught it, the bastard.

“Now, if you want this back,” Said Hold, holding the locket up “then you’ll tell me what a horcrux is.”

Then he threw it over to Tibbers, who was apparently not a good catch. He fumbled a bit and picked the locket up from the floor.

“Put it on top of the TV, Jacob, Regulus is too short to reach it there.” Hold said, smirking at Regulus. Regulus sneered at him, bunching his fists in the blanket.

“Sir, I’m only a bit taller than him. I won’t be able to reach.” Tibbers said, holding the locket up to get a good look at it.

“Give it to Elain then.”

Tibbers passed the locket over.

“Here you go, Waters.” He said. Her last name was Waters then, Regulus quickly decided that he would refer to her as Waters in his head from now on. He didn’t want to get too comfortable and call her Elain in a conversation.

Waters barely even glanced at it, she just walked over to the TV and set it on top of it. She didn’t even have to stand on her tiptoes like Hold had. Regulus realised that Waters was very tall.

Waters turned from the TV to stare at Regulus, back straight, hands folded behind her back.

Regulus felt like an ant.

“Fine.” Regulus said tersely, turning to glare at Hold “A horcrux is a container for part of a soul, created in the hope of immortality.”

“And this is your horcrux?” Hold asked.

Regulus felt sick at the mere suggestion that he might want a horcrux. He quickly shook his head.

“No. No,” He said “it’s the Dark Lord’s. I stole it. A horcrux is probably the most disgusting form of magic, I would never create a horcrux.”

But that apparently didn’t stop him from handling it. Regulus suddenly realised how many times his hands had passed over the thing in the past few days and grew ill. He wanted to wash his hands. He _had_ washed his hands – in the bathroom. But that wasn’t enough.

“Who’s this Dark Lord?” Asked Hold.

“That wasn’t the deal.” Regulus said. Then “Why is it all four of you this time? You were the only one in here the last two times you wanted to know these things.”

“Is this a new deal?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Elain.” Hold commanded. Waters nodded and took the locket from on top of the TV. She stepped forward and passed it over to Regulus, then she returned to her position in front of the TV.

Regulus was going to get in so much trouble with the ministry.

Then again – he looked down at his dark mark – he already _was_ in trouble with the ministry.

Hold rubbed tiredly at his eyes and sighed.

“Our superiors are getting restless.” He admitted. He looked annoyed, Regulus didn’t think he’d seen the man annoyed yet. Confused, yes. Amused, yes. But not annoyed “They want to know why we had to unload gallons of gasoline into a lake and set fire to it. Of course, they know about the zombies. But they want to know why there were zombies for us to set fire to in the first place. I’m sorry, Regulus, but saying the Dark Lord put them there isn’t really gonna appease them until you tell us more about the Dark Lord.”

Fair enough. The muggles likely were confused. If the ministry had known about the inferi then they would be frantic.

Muggles didn’t know about magic, they were probably even more worried than the ministry.

Wait a second…

“You set fire to them?” Regulus asked, frowning.

“Yep,” said Hold “we torched the whole damn place.”

“But my wand’s still in there!” Regulus yelped. His wand! It was _his_ , more than anything else had ever been. He’d had it since he was _nine_! There still could be a chance that it was…

Hold was cringing.

There was no way his wand was okay.

Regulus shuddered, his eyes burning. He was helpless without his wand! He could do nothing without his wand! How was he supposed to destroy the horcrux without his wand!

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Hold fretted, sounding completely out of his depth.

“I’m not crying.” Regulus said. His voice was wobbly. He felt wobbly. He probably _was_ crying. That was embarrassing, crying in front of muggles. Heck, crying in front of anyone was embarrassing. There was a reason he hadn’t done so since he was seven.

“Yes, you are.” Said Hold.

“Look,” he paused awkwardly “we’ll come back tomorrow, okay? And you can mourn over your…wand…or whatever it is that’s upsetting you. And we’ll come back tomorrow and ask some more questions.”

“Our superiors can wait one more day.” Waters said bluntly.

“Yes. Yes, they can. I will physically fight them for you.” Hill said.

Tibbers wisely kept quiet in the face of Hill’s determination. He obviously didn’t want to wait. Hold ushered everyone out of the room and closed the door softly behind them.

Regulus fell back against the pillows, hand clenching around the locket. He was holding the locket. Regulus quickly wrenched his hand from it and brought it up to rub at his face.

There _were_ tears. He wasn’t surprised.

Regulus breathed in heavily, biting at his lip to stifle a sob. His eyes burned.

He brought his hand back down to hit the horcrux off of the bed. It fell down and clattered across the floor, the sound loud in the empty room. Regulus could hear a clock ticking slowly from above him and he tilted his head back to look at it.

It was plainer than any clock he’d ever seen before, and in a very inconvenient space as well. How was he supposed to tell the time when it was all the way up there?

 _Muggles_ , honestly.

* * *

 

When Hold stepped into the room the next morning he stooped over to pick up the locket.

“Bob Ross?” He commented, placing it on the side table.

Regulus nodded his head.

“He’s soothing.”

“I like Bob Ross.” Tibbers admitted tensely, closing the door behind himself.

“Yes. He is good.” Waters said, crossing the room and sitting down in the seat. Hold raised an eyebrow at her with an unimpressed expression. She raised one back. He backed up and stood to the side of the TV.

Clever.

Hold brought his hand up and pressed on the side of the TV, where the same symbol from the off button on the remote sat. The TV turned off.

Hill giggled at Hold and placed a cardboard cup holder on the side table, next to the locket.

“It’s coffee.” She explained, passing him one of the cups.

“I’m not allowed coffee.” Regulus said, taking a sip from the drink. It was alright, but nowhere near as good tea.

“Why?” Asked Hill, sitting down at the end of the bed and sipping at her own drink. Hold leaned forward a bit, obviously ready to get started on laughing at him today.

“My brother loves coffee, and so does my uncle. And, since the both of them are blood traitors, mother has been determined to purge the house of coffee.”

“What’s a blood traitor?” Hold asked.

“What’s your face.” Regulus sneered.

Tibbers breathed in heavily and regarded Regulus with an annoyed expression. Regulus glared at him.

Although…he _did_ have a point. Regulus had to admit that was a rather Sirius insult.

“Sorry,” he amended, looking Hold directly in the eyes “what I meant to say was…why, exactly, does your face look like it was rearranged by a Hungarian Horntail?”

Hold looked a little confused at his wording, likely wondering what a Hungarian Horntail was, but his annoying smirk quickly returned to his annoying face.

“I’ve been told by many people that my face is flawless.” Hold said arrogantly. He was right as well, but that wasn’t the point.

“Were those people blind, perhaps?” Regulus asked.

Hold opened his mouth to answer.

“What’s a blood traitor?” Waters asked.

Hold closed his mouth and raised an eyebrow towards Regulus. Now, if Hold had been the one asking the question then Regulus would have insulted him again. But it was Waters who asked the question, and Regulus was a tiny bit scared of her.

“A blood traitor is a wizard who consorts with muggles – someone that throws away everything it means to be pureblood and sympathises with other blood traitors, halfbloods, mudbloods, squibs, or muggles. A blood traitor is the worst kind of wizard.” Regulus said, reciting it as if it was his mother speaking. She’d told him this a thousand times, ingrained it in his memory deeply.

“And could you explain those terms?” Waters said.

Regulus fidgeted a little and nodded. He stared down at his lap so he couldn’t make eye contact with the muggles.

“A muggle is human being without magic – dirty and savage, without a concept of civilisation.” He recited, feeling oddly guilty about saying such things “A halfblood is a wizard who has one pureblood parent and one mudblood one – they’re not as awful as mudbloods but are still not to be talked to. A mudblood is a person whose parents are both muggles – these are the people that are destroying our traditions and stealing our magic. A squib is a magicless person with wizarding parents – to be one is to shame the family.”

Regulus shifted restlessly in the silence. He refused to look up. He felt numb.

“And the Dark Lord?” Asked Hold.

Regulus swallowed.

“He is one with God, immortal and forever. The epitome of society. He is the one that shall bring us out of hiding and conquer the world. He shall rain supreme, above the filthy muggles and dredges of society. He shall stop the dirty mudbloods from stealing our magic and feed their souls to the dementors, as they are deserving. He is everything, he is-“

“Stop.” Said Hold.

Regulus stopped.

“Do you believe these things?” Hold asked.

Regulus wasn’t sure. These were all things that his mother had said, that Bellatrix had written in letters. They weren’t things that he had made up on his own. They were things that he had been told and had always accepted as the truth because he had never been told otherwise.

But the muggles _were_ civilised, Regulus had seen that for himself. Yes, they did stick tubes in sick people, but they didn’t have magic and there was probably an explanation for that somewhere. They had photographs that talked and clean hospital rooms and David Attenborough, who observed monkeys and showed people that they were intelligent.

And the Dark Lord had hurt Kreacher, had left him for dead. And the Dark Lord had created a horcrux. And the Dark Lord crucioed his followers out of anger.

And how exactly was an eleven-year-old child meant to steal magic.

“No.” Regulus said.

He supposed that made him a blood traitor.

“Good,” said Hold “because that crap sounds really fucking racist."

“And for God’s sake, stop referring to them as mudbloods. It sounds really insulting.” Hold chided, sighing.

Regulus looked up. Hold was looking at him tiredly.

“Alright.” Regulus agreed.

That definitely made him a blood traitor.

“We still need to know everything else.” Hold reminded him.

“Okay.” Regulus said “What do you want to know?”

“Who exactly is this Dark Lord?” Hold asked “And, _please_ , don’t start on that cult drivel.”

Regulus nodded his head. He was already a blood traitor, it wouldn’t hurt to go a step further and tell these muggles about the wizarding world.

“He calls himself Lord Voldemort. It means flight from death. He’s scared of death – hence the horcrux. Horcruxes are a safety procedure – if a piece of your soul is hidden away on the Earth then when you die you cannot pass on. You need your entire soul to pass on.

“I’m not entirely sure where he cropped up from.” Regulus admitted. Hold didn’t look happy about that “There are no wizards in the Hogwarts registry with the name Voldemort.”

“What’s Hogwarts?” Hill asked, setting her drink down on the window sill. Regulus realised he was still holding his and did the same.

“Hogwarts is Britain’s most prestigious wizarding school.” Regulus told her.

“Oh,” said Hill. She looked very interested “what about the other wizarding schools in Britain?”

“They’re only really small ones, usually in small villages – for people that don’t want to go to Hogwarts. Going to one of those would practically be home schooling.” Regulus said. He’d never actually met anyone that went to those small village schools but his mother had always complained about their lack of honour. His mother complained about a lot of things.

Tibbers left his place by the door and stalked forward.

“So how’ve you remained hidden then?” He asked, peering down at Regulus with a frown “I’m pretty sure we would’ve noticed if we were living amongst magic people by now.”

“We hide.” Regulus said self-consciously “We’ve been hiding for centuries. We did start trying to re-integrate with muggle society in the middle ages, but then your people started burning ours and we realised what an awful idea it was.”

He looked away awkwardly.

“No hard feelings.”

“Right.” Tibbers said in an unconvinced voice. He _was_ right. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters obviously had hard feelings.  _Regulus_ had hard feelings.

“So, we’ve got an angry man. He’s immortal; he hates us; he’s out for our blood.” Said Waters, staring Regulus down with a serious expression “How are we going to make him mortal again?”

Regulus looked at her. Then at Tibbers, then Hill, and finally Hold.

They weren’t going to let him do this alone, were they. They were determined to be included in this. Very well, Regulus conceded, if they died it was their fault.

“We destroy the horcrux.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're a team now, yay! And, also, Regulus is gonna stop calling muggleborns mudbloods cause that's kinda not a good thing. Basically Regulus has received a wake-up call. If he was actually gonna see Sirius at all in the next ten years then there would be many I told you so's. Sadly the only wizards/witches Reg is scheduled to bump into in this part of the series are his mum, Ollivander, and possibly some other shop keepers in Diagon Alley.
> 
> Sirius is gonna have to wait twelve years in Askaban to tell Regulus that he told him so. He will get a little cameo in this part of the series at some point though. Regulus is definitely gonna see him in muggle London and immediately duck into an alley or something like that.
> 
> You can come talk to me on my tumblr over here: https://achairwithapandaonit.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to hold onto this chapter until Saturday but I literally do not have patience. At least I managed to wait a couple days after I finished writing it before posting??

Regulus refused to part with the locket and, seeing as he was the expert, there was nothing anyone could do about it. What Regulus had failed to explain to Hold was that he didn’t actually know how to destroy it. He had, however, told him that he needed a wand to do so.

Thanks to Regulus’ quick thinking they were scheduled for a trip to Diagon Alley just as soon as he was admitted from the hospital.

He was hoping to obliviate Hold and his team outside of Diagon Alley and then go into hiding with the locket. He would find a way to destroy it eventually – he just had to try every spell he could think of. Something was bound to work.

“How am I alive anyway?” Regulus asked over a bowl of popcorn (which was nice. He just wished the shells would stop getting stuck in his teeth) and an episode of David Attenborough.

Now that they had finished questioning him there was only ever one person guarding him. And today that person was Hill.

Hill, so surprised by the question, dropped the piece of popcorn she was about to eat. It fell to the floor and rolled under the bed. Hill craned her next to see just how far it had gone.

“Five second rule?” she suggested sheepishly.

“Don’t be Sirius.” Regulus said, scrunching his nose up in disgust.

“Sirius?”

“My brother.”

If Hill were Hold then she would have immediately began snickering and asked him whether or not Sirius was a very serious person. Hill was, however, not Hold. Thank Merlin for small blessings.

“Is he nice?” Hill asked.

“Sure,” said Regulus, rolling his eyes “if you enjoy being poked repeatedly and being asked whose soul you ate for breakfast the previous morning then, yes, he is nice.”

Hill hummed.

“My sister’s nothing like that. She’s called Daisy and she’s about five years older than me. Is Sirius the younger brother? He sounds like a younger brother.”

“Sadly, no. He’s older by two years.” Regulus said.

“You said he was a blood traitor the other day so he can’t be that bad.” Hill said, reaching back into the bowl of popcorn.

Regulus shrugged and turned back to the TV.

He paused, hand about to reach into the bowl of popcorn, and turned to Hill.

“So why am I alive?” He asked.

“Oh yeah!” Hill said “I’d forgotten you’d asked that. The doctors made some kind of antivenom thing? I don’t really understand it but they said the green drink thing you drank had similar properties to venom.”

“The doctors? You mean those muggle healers that cut people up?” Regulus asked, feeling a little bit sick. Hill smiled at him.

“No, I mean those muggle healers that heal people.” Hill said, then paused briefly to think “And if a doctor _is_ cutting someone up then I’m sure they have a good reason. Like, maybe they’re doing a heart transplant or something. Even if they did that they wouldn’t really be cutting someone up though, just cutting into the chest to give the patient a new heart.”

“Oh.” Regulus said a little awkwardly, he had just insulted muggles again, even if he hadn’t meant to.

“They would have needed the potion for that, wouldn’t they?” He said, frowning “Did someone go over to the island and get a sample?”

“Yep! Hold did.” Hill chirped.

“How long have I been here then?” Regulus groaned. He was more than a little pissed off that he had Hold to thank for his continued existence.

Hill tapped at her chin in thought.

“Let’s see…it’s the 12th of April…and that local found you…when was it…hmm…I think it was th-“

“The 23rd of December.” Regulus said. He was just guessing, but it made sense. He’d entered the cave on the 23rd and he could vaguely remember a blurry figure before he had passed out.

“That’s right.” Hill said “You’ve been in here for about four months then, which is a pretty long time. Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Regulus sighed. He looked out of the window at the green trees.

Four months was bad. Four months meant he would be questioned if he went back home. Four months was…

Probably for the best. If it had been four months since he’d last been seen then they would have given up on looking for him by now.

His mother was probably worried. A small part of him thought it served her right.

He doubted that Sirius and his father cared very much.

He wondered if there’d been a funeral.

* * *

 

Regulus was awakened by a searing pain spreading over his left arm. He swore, grasping at it. For a second he wondered just what he’d done to it, but then he remembered the dark mark.

The tattoo looked almost like charcoal, inky black running strong throughout it despite how mutilated it had become because of Regulus’ stint in the cave. The skin around it was a pinkish colour – hence the pain.

Regulus hissed as the burning grew stronger.

It seemed the Dark Lord was calling his followers.

Bellatrix would probably be at whatever meeting this was, and Cissy’s husband. Regulus had always thought the man was a bit of a twat. Cissy could do a hundred times better than him.

Now that he thought about it, Cissy had probably been upset to learn about his ‘death’. They’d grown closer since Sirius and Andy had left to play blood traitor. Regulus paused, still clutching at his pinkened skin.

Maybe he should stop thinking like that. Sirius wasn’t ‘playing blood traitor’, he was doing the right thing. He didn’t like admitting that.

Bellatrix wouldn't be upset at all. Death never upset her. She laughed at death, she was mad.

Madness ran in the family – probably from a dark curse another family had left on theirs – and it really wasn’t Bellatrix’s fault that she’d been the one to develop it this generation. It really wasn't. Regulus just wished she'd turn it down a bit, try to be less terrifying.

Bellatrix would definitely crucio him if she ever saw him again.

Regulus turned over onto his back and breathed in deeply, hand tight on his arm. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

“We could try shooting at it.” Waters commented with a straight face.

“Excuse me?”

“Give me the locket, we’re going to shoot at it.”

“With what?” Regulus asked incredulously “I haven’t got a wand.”

“We’ll use my gun.” Waters said, pulling a metal device from inside her jacket.

“What in the name of Merlin is that?” Regulus asked, cringing at it. It looked distinctly pathetic. Then again, he supposed, wands also didn’t look like much.

“It’s my gun,” Waters said “they’re…muggle…weapons.” She waved it a little.

“I doubt it will work.” Regulus said.

“We should at least try.” Waters shot back.

Regulus shrugged and nodded towards the side table. Waters took the locket from the side table and opened the window next to the bed before placing the locket on the window sill, in front of the open window.

She obviously thought that this might shatter the window.

“You should cover your ears.” She said, then she backed up a little bit and took aim. Regulus raised an eyebrow but conceded.

Her finger squeezed the trigger.

 

_BANG!_

 

Regulus jumped, eyes going wide. He shakily removed his hands from his ears and turned to look at the locket. It wasn’t there.

“Shit,” Waters swore, bending over the bed to peer out of the window “it fell down.”

Regulus sat up and joined her. The locket was lying in a bush of roses three floors down. Everything within a 4ft radius was wilted and black and there was a burn mark all the way down the side of the building, the two windows below his had shattered. It seemed the horcrux hadn’t enjoyed being shot at.

“Do you think they’ll notice?” Waters asked with a wince.

“Uh huh,” Regulus said, nodding, still a little shocked “they’ll notice.”

“Elain!” Hold’s muffled voice could be heard from down the hall.

* * *

 

“What’s a vending machine?”

Tibbers looked at him with a grimace.

“You don’t know what a vending machine is?” He asked.

“Of course not, that’s why I’m asking you.” Regulus replied.

Tibbers sighed and massaged at his head in annoyance.

“A vending machine is metal box with small packaged food in it. You punch in a code with the keypad on it and put coins in the slot and the food comes out.”

Regulus didn’t really think that was an apt description – how did the food come out? Where did it come out from? – but Tibbers often looked irritated so he decided not to question him.

“The vending machine on this floor is out of commission.” Tibbers admitted, looking over at Regulus, lips twitching upwards.

“Waters?” Regulus asked, feeling his own lips creeping upwards.

“Yep.” Tibbers said, snorting slightly and eyeing the window. He had heard about The Incident, then.

They fell into silence again.

* * *

 

“Guess who got coffee!” Hold sang as he walked into the room.

“I don’t like coffee.” Regulus said.

“You liked it well enough when Constantine gave it to you.” Hold said with a smirk. He placed a cup of coffee down on the side table and fell back into the chair, taking a long gulp of his coffee.

“I don’t like you.” Regulus amended, rolling his eyes at him.

“Sure you do.” Hold responded, placing his own coffee on the side table and digging a flat rectangle box thing from his pocket.

Regulus wasn’t going to ask what it was, he wasn’t going to fall into Hold’s trap.

“It’s a phone by the way.” Hold said, swiping his thumb across it.

“Fuck you.”

“Such language! Your mother would be ashamed!”

“My mother gets ashamed at a lot of things, the language that I use isn’t special.” Regulus picked the remote off of the side table. Attenborough could save him from the annoyance that was Hold.

“Attenborough can’t save you from the annoyance that is me.” Hold said. Regulus sneered at him and turned the TV on.

Attenborough didn’t appear on the screen.

“CHAD!” screeched the American woman on the screen, holding someone, presumably Chad, to her chest “Chad! No! NO! Please don’t die! Chad!”

“Attenborough’s not on right now.” Hold said gleefully, finding Regulus’ annoyance amusing.

Regulus seethed and clicked onto the next channel. There was what he could recognise as a cat on the tv, shoving what was probably some kind of gun into a hole in the wall. It was obviously drawn instead of acted.

“A cartoon. That one’s called Tom and Jerry.” Hold said helpfully.

“Shut up.” Regulus growled, changing the channel again.

“A music channel.” Hold said.

Regulus recognised the song, he had heard it blasting through the walls of Sirius’ bedroom many times. Once it had literally blasted through, destroying Regulus’ carefully crafted conspiracy theory wall ( _now, of course, that wall was filled with newspaper cuttings on the Dark Lord. If the newspaper cuttings were connected via strings and had notes such as ‘Bellatrix seems a bit too into the Dark Lord’ and ‘He hurt Kreacher! He needs to die!’ scrawled across them in bright red ink then, well, no one would really notice. His mother only seemed to have an eye for sensing misbehaviour in Sirius_ ). This song had starred in many of Regulus’ nightmares.

Regulus scowled and turned the TV off.

* * *

 

Regulus awoke with a gasp, feeling phantom hands grasping at him. He clutched at his arms weakly and heaved in shaky breaths.

It felt like he was drowning.

He buried his face in his knees and tried to forget the inferius' rotting, mushy flesh underneath his fingertips, the way their skeletal hands had wrenched him beneath the water.

He had always been afraid of water.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut and felt along the side table for the TV remote, his hand brushing against the horcrux as he did so. He ignored the horcrux and grabbed the remote. It felt solid in his hand, nothing like the inferi.

He peeked over the top of knees and pointed the remote at the TV, turning it on, quickly changing the channel to his favourite one (and he’d only been awake for two weeks, it felt strange to say he had a favourite channel).

Attenborough started talking about elephants and Regulus settled down slightly. It made him feel better.

“Alright,” Hold said, two hours later, entering the room. He had a bag in his hands, which he placed on the end of the bed “you need to change into these and then we’ll get going.”

“Are they finally letting me out then?” Regulus asked, turning the TV off. It was a shame, he’d been really invested in this episode.

“That’s right.” Hold said, walking back over to the door “I’ll be in the hall when you finish.”

He made sure to point out where that was as if Regulus didn’t know how to find the bloody corridor outside of his room before he closed the door behind him.

Regulus scowled and got out of the bed. He was assuming that this meant they would be going to Diagon Alley today. He opened the bag and pulled the clothes out.

There was a pair of muggle trousers (dark blue ones made from a strange material, Sirius and his friends used to wear the same kind of trousers around Hogwarts on weekends), a thankfully normal shirt, a dark green sweater, a long, grey, hooded coat (which was good because he needed something to hide his face while in Diagon Alley. It wouldn’t be good if anyone recognised him), a pair of socks, and a pair lace-up muggle boots.

It was a very muggle outfit but hopefully it was generic enough not to draw attention. Then Regulus remembered just how muggle everything he had seen Hill in was.

Maybe he could pass them off as halfbloods? Or possibly he could cast a wandless notice-me-not charm?

Regulus grimaced and put the outfit on.

“Where’s the locket?” Hold asked when he stepped out of the room. Regulus scowled at him, pulling the locket from his coat’s pocket.

“Right here.” He said, holding it up.

Hold was quick to snatch it out of his hand.

“Hey!” Regulus yelled, trying to swipe it back. Hold moved backwards a step and held the locket above his head.

“You can have it back when we’ve gotten to the meeting point.” Hold told him, waiting for Regulus to settle down.

“ _Which_ meeting point?” Regulus asked angrily, forcing his arms down to his sides.

Hold slowly brought his hand down, watching Regulus for any sign of movement, and put the locket around his neck before shoving it under the collar of his shirt. He started moving down the hallway before he even started talking.

“The one after Diagon Alley. It’s at an apartment in central London, where you’ll be staying until we’re done with this horcrux business.” Hold said.

“So you’re going to continue to hold me like a prisoner?” Regulus asked bitingly as he speed-walked after him. Hold had very long strides.

Hold said nothing to his comment and continued on. Regulus eyed the horcrux around his neck with concern.

“You should probably take that off.” He said.

“What?” Hold said, starting down a staircase “So you can take our only bargaining chip and make a run for it? I don’t think so.”

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with!” Regulus argued.

“Neither do you.”

“Hold, for Merlin’s sake! Take it off! That’s dark magic!”

Hold stopped and turned to look at him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and heaved a sigh.

“Wearing it around my neck for a few hours isn’t going to hurt anyone,” he said “you’ve been in direct contact with it for the past couple of weeks and nothing has happened.”

Regulus regarded him with an annoyed expression.

“Maybe that’s because I didn’t put it around my bloody neck.” He pointed out “And when Waters shot at it, it killed a lot of roses. Who’s to say the same thing won’t happen to you?”

Hold smirked at him and rose an eyebrow.

“Do you see any roses on me Regulus?” He asked.

“I will once I’ve shoved you into one of the rose bushes outside.” Regulus replied.

“It kind of defeats the purpose if you tell my your plan.”

Regulus scowled up at him. And it was honestly getting very annoying, he always had to look up at everyone. This was why he liked Hill and not Hold.

“Just take it off.”

“No. The locket stays around my neck until you’re safely inside the apartment. I won’t be swayed on this.”

There was nothing that Regulus could do about it. Hold wasn’t budging.

Fine then, but it was at his own risk.

They started off again down the corridor, made their way down two flights of stairs, and then exited the hospital through the front entrance. The parking lot was mostly empty, though there were a few cars scattered about.

Hold made right for one near the middle of the parking lot. It was dark blue. Regulus couldn’t really say much else for it, he didn’t know anything about muggle cars except that they were very loud and annoying (a bit like Sirius, he supposed).

Tibbers was leaning against the outside of the car with a coffee in his hand. He looked tired. Hold looked tired too, now that he thought about it.

“Did you two stay up late last night or something?” Regulus asked as they neared the car. Tibbers’ hand clenched around the coffee cup.

“It’s five in the fucking morning, Regulus. Not everyone can be as chipper as you.” He growled.

Regulus wasn’t feeling chipper at all. He still felt sick from his nightmare.

“You should be careful with that, Jacob.” Hold said, gesturing towards the coffee cup. Tibbers swore as the coffee began to spill over the sides because of his tight grip and quickly corrected his hold.

“I have some tissues in the car.” Hold said, going around to the right-hand side of the car. Tibbers rose an eyebrow at him.

"I know. I bought them." he said sourly.

Hold just laughed and climbed inside the car. He opened a compartment on the dashboard and took a packet of tissues from it.

Tibbers quickly opened the door to the other front seat and slid inside. He placed his cup of coffee in the drink holder and took the tissues from Hold’s offered hand.

“Thank you.” he said, wiping at his hands. Then he turned to the window and raised an eyebrow at Regulus.

Regulus suddenly realised he had to get inside the car too. He regarded the door to the backseats with a confused look before trying the handle. It wasn’t like any handle he had used before, all long and flat. He pulled on it and let go. The thing just snapped back.

There was a knocking sound on the window next to him. Regulus turned and gave Tibbers a haughty look. The window magically came down. Regulus jumped.

“I thought you said you didn’t have magic!” Regulus accused.

“I don’t,” said Tibbers “I just rolled the window down. Look, could you open the door _sometime_ today. We _do_ have somewhere to be.”

Hold was snickering from the front seat, the bastard.

Regulus sneered at the both of them and tried the handle again. This time he put more force behind it and it _did_ open. He quickly clambered inside the car and closed the door behind him.

“Where are Hill and Waters?” he asked, leaning back into the seat and crossing his arms petulantly.

“We’re picking them up from their apartment, since it’s so ear-oh, thank you Tibbers,” he said, accepting the packet of tissues and putting it back inside the compartment “since it’s so early I thought we’d give them a bit of a lie in. Their apartments on the way to Charing Cross road anyway.”

And because Hold was an absolute bastard and couldn’t leave well enough alone, he turned in his seat to grin at Regulus.

“Do you need help with your seatbelt, Regulus. I can help you put it on, usually I only do this for my sister’s children but I can make an exception for you. You _are_ only – what? – thirteen? Fourteen? Twelv-“

“I’m eighteen, you asshole!” Regulus snarled.

“Oh, sorry.” Said Hold, snickering “I hadn’t realised, what with you being so short and all.”

Regulus glared at him furiously and grabbed what he assumed to be the seatbelt, jabbing it into where it was probably meant to go. There was a clicking noise as it settled inside.

Hold looked a little disappointed that he’d actually managed to do it. No doubt he’d wanted another chance to make fun of Regulus.

“Right then,” Tibbers said, leaning against the window as Hold started the car up “wake me up when we get there. God I need sleep.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus really likes David Attenborough documentaries guys, they're his flesh and blood.
> 
> Also, Reg and Hill are becoming fast friends, they're absolute bros. It won't be long before Hill sits Regulus down and forces him to watch her classic doctor who collection with her, because I love it so my favourite characters have to too. You heard it here first - Hill is a classic Doctor Who nerd. Her favourite Doctor is...uhh...Colin Baker? Colin Baker's pretty great. She likes the coat (and I bet she could go incognito as a wizard in that coat, it's certainly weird enough), she has a replica that Waters made. Waters likes making clothes now. What next? Tibbers has a secret collection of pressed flowers or some shit. Hold can actually be serious when the situation calls for it. Regulus is very good at painting (I've actually had this headcanon forever).
> 
> Also, I'm not sure what Hill usually wears but according to Regulus it's very muggle. Not just muggle, but very. She probably wears hoodies or something.
> 
> You can talk to me on tumblr over here: https://achairwithapandaonit.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

The car drove past tall buildings and skyscrapers, across the busy streets of London. There had been hardly any traffic for the first hour, but then the cars had suddenly seemed to have multiplied and the roads had filled.

Tibbers was still asleep against the window, and Hill and Waters had fallen asleep against each other nearly as soon as they’d gotten into the car.

Regulus tapped his fingers against the window impatiently as they moved yet another inch.

“You know…” Said Hold from the front. His eyes were trained on Regulus through the windshield mirror “…I would have expected you to fight more, you haven’t seemed very happy to tell us these things.”

Regulus ceased his tapping. Hold’s eyes were serious, his tone serious. Hold was suspicious.

“Maybe I’m just happy to have some he-“

“No. No, not you.” Hold interrupted “You’re happy to live, you’re happy to have our help in healing. But you’re not happy to include us in this.”

Hold was a lot more perceptive than he acted, a lot more responsible. The man didn’t trust him, Regulus realised. He could joke around and annoy him and treat him like a child. But he couldn’t trust him.

Because he treated his team like a family. He called everyone by their first names and he let them sleep in his car while on duty. Regulus wondered just what the man had been through to be so wary of letting someone near them.

“What are you like when you have a weapon?” Hold asked.

“A wand isn’t a weapon.” Regulus immediately rebutted.

“Oh yes it is.”

His voice was hard.

“Tell me, Regulus,” Hold said “do your people have any spells that tamper with memory?”

Regulus felt cold. He knew. He knew! Under his mask of good humour and laughs, he knew.

“No.” Regulus said in an unconvincing voice.

Hold just hummed at that.

The car inched forward.

* * *

 

 

Hold parked the car across from the Leaky Cauldron.

“Well, where to now?” He asked, turning to look at the backseats. Regulus just frowned.

“It will be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate.” Hold said. Regulus highly doubted that. He had been cooperating so far and nothing good seemed to have come from it.

Well, not nothing good. There was David Attenborough.

Regulus was still a little confounded by the conversation earlier. He sighed. It would be fine, he just needed to buy a wand and then he could obliviate them.

And he’d obliviate them all, even Hill. Maybe they had shared popcorn together, and maybe he had complained about Sirius to her, but that meant nothing. She was just another muggle at the end of the day. A nice muggle, yes, but still a muggle. There was nothing wrong with muggles, Regulus knew that now, could see it clearly, but it was dangerous for a muggle to know these things.

“It’s across the road,” Regulus murmured, eyeing up the Leaky Cauldron “muggles can’t see it though. It might be best for me to go alone.”

Hold didn’t fall for it. Regulus didn’t really expect him to – the man was very observant.

So Regulus pulled his hood tightly over his head and lead the four muggles over to the Leaky Cauldron. Hill gasped as they walked through the doorway, her vision giving way to the dingy inn once she’d passed it. Even Waters looked surprised at it, her deadpan expression giving way to wonder.

“Stop staring you idiot.” Regulus hissed as Tibbers’ eyes lingered on a wizard stirring his cup of tea with a wave of his wand for too long. The man jumped and stared down at him.

“There are some wizards out there that quite enjoy a spot of muggle baiting.” Regulus elaborated, tugging on his hood nervously. He scanned their surroundings to see if anyone had noticed just how muggle his companions were, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

“This way.” Regulus muttered, giving a pointed look towards Hill as she inched her hand towards a floating cloth that was wiping down a table. She quickly pulled her hand away from the cloth and gave him a sheepish look, making to follow him.

Regulus hadn’t been to the Leaky Cauldron very often – it wasn’t the sort of place that was befitting for a Black. The common folk and mudbloo- muggleborns gathered there like mould growing on a damp ceiling. The Blacks – and other purebloods – had much better taste than a seedy old inn and chose to stay at more pricey hotels or whatever summer homes they had in the area. So Regulus had only ever came through the doorway a few times – most of the times it was to enter Diagon Alley.

Once it had been to meet up with Sirius to inform him that his letters were unnecessary, and that Regulus had no need for his help.

That had been a few months before what had transpired in the cave.

Regulus wondered if it would be a good idea to write to Sirius and ask him for his help. But then…that would place him in the way of unnecessary harm…and Regulus just knew that Sirius would be petty and difficult because of how Regulus had previously brushed off his concerns.

Regulus came to a stop in the back alley and, ignoring everyone’s disappointed expressions, placed his hand over the bricks in the correct pattern.

He was no good at wandless magic but he was quite capable in sending out a small burst of his power, even an average wizard could do so if they took the time to think about it. And the gateway to Diagon Alley didn’t necessarily need a wand to spike a reaction – just a pinch of magic.

The wall unfurled to show the usually busy streets of Diagon Alley. For a second Regulus was put off by the emptiness of it, but then he remembered just how early in the morning it was, the time only just having reached seven a few minutes ago.

“I was almost half convinced you were delusional.” Hold admitted, looking down at him with a startled expression. Waters nodded her head distractedly, tracking the flashing sign of a robes shop with child-like wonder as it whizzed about inside the shop, pushing over racks upon racks of clothing. The shop keeper inside was swearing to Merlin rather loudly.

“Only half convinced.” Tibbers snorted tiredly “I was fully convinced.” Still, he looked just as startled as everyone else.

Hill looked as if her greatest wish had been fulfilled.

“Isn’t this just wonderful.” She said, leaning into Waters with a sigh. The other woman nodded her head, eyes still tracked on the erratic shop sign. There was a big puff of smoke inside the shop. The sign had blown up.

“Alright then,” Hold started. All three of his underlings snapped to attention in an almost humorous way “Jacob, Elain. You two will accompany Regulus to the wand shop. Constantine, you’re with me. Meet back here in an hour.”

“You can’t possibly be thinking of wandering around Diagon Alley!” Regulus snapped incredulously.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” Hold said.

“But you’ll get yourselves killed! It’s a preposterous proposal!”

“I promise you, Regulus,” Hold said mockingly “if any wizard Nazis come at myself and Constantine, I’ll shoot them.”

“He won’t be the only one.” Hill said seriously. And then she smiled at Regulus and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Waters on the cheek “Stay out of trouble.” She said, and then “Don’t shoot anything.”

It was a bit hypocritical of her to say such a thing. It was also a stark reminder that while Hill was sweet and kind and awkward she was also part of Hold’s team, and Hold’s team seemed much more dangerous than he had previously thought.

“You have the coins, Jacob?” Hold asked, holding his elbow out for Hill. She giggled, hooking her elbow with his.

“Yes, of course.” Said the other man.

Regulus quietly simmered as Hold gave Tibbers and Waters a smile and then lead Hill off down the alley.

“Coins?” He asked, turning to Tibbers as soon Hold and Hill had left his sight “What coins?”

“We found them when we emptied out your pockets.” Tibbers took his wallet from his back pocket and took a galleon from it to hold up for Regulus to see “They _are_ wizarding currency? Cause that’s what we’ve assumed.”

Regulus scowled at him and snatched the galleon from his fingers.

“What else have you taken from me?” He snarled, hand clenching around the galleon. Tibbers just rolled his eyes at him and closed up the wallet before placing it back into his pocket.

“You didn’t have very much in your pockets.” He said with a voice that implied Regulus was an idiot.

“Is it customary for muggles to fill their pockets with all of their worldly possessions when they plan to die then? I hadn’t really considered that I might need anything but my wand. It was a miracle that I had some left-over galleons in there.” Regulus blurted angrily, unwilling to take the insult on his intelligent. He only really realised the problem with saying this when Tibbers went white.

“You were planning to die?” He asked in a shocked voice.

Regulus stuttered weakly “It’s, well…uh…I’ve been- I was-”

“Come look at this.” Waters called. There was a hint of urgency in her voice. Regulus turned to see her in front of the robes shop’s front window, looking at a poster that had been hastily pasted on it. Regulus turned to Tibbers. The man shrugged then placed a hand on his shoulder, steering him over to her. Waters moved aside to allow them a better view.

What Regulus saw he did not expect.

He wasn’t really sure that anything could be more unexpected than this, more unrealistic. It was a missing poster. The missing poster had his face printed on it. He looked distinctly unhappy in the picture, he was distinctly unhappy in nearly every picture his parents had of him, but he looked unhappier than usual here. It had been taken the day Regulus got back from Hogwarts for Christmas break, only a couple of weeks before he had gone to the cave.

He had known he was going to die then, had been sort of dreading it.

There was a ten thousand galleon award for finding him. They couldn’t have cared that much, could they? Mother and father, they couldn’t care that much. They…there was no way…they couldn’t possibly care that much. They barely cared at all. They’d never once stepped in to talk to him, to ask him how he was doing. They never once asked him why he was so pale.

Maybe if they’d actually cared, actually asked, maybe if they’d done that then Regulus wouldn’t have gone to the cave. Maybe Regulus wouldn’t have smeared his blood on the entrance to it. Maybe Regulus could’ve finally started to feel happy.

Maybe they could have just told him that he was allowed to live, that he was allowed to do more than be the perfect pureblood son – quiet and agreeing to everything said to him. Maybe they could have told him that it was okay to say no.

If they really loved him so much as ten thousand galleons then they should have said so earlier.

Rage bubbled up inside of him. Of course, this was all _their_ fault. They’d done this to him. Made him into this mess. His hand dug uncomfortably into the galleon.

“We should go.” He said sharply. He felt his eyes water and pulled the hood even further down his face.

Regulus strode down the alley without so much as a look behind him. Waters’ and Tibbers’ resounding footsteps told him that they were following.

Within ten minutes they were approaching Ollivanders. It was just as he opened the door that Regulus realised the problem with this – he had been missing for several months and his face was plastered all over the alley.

“Ah, Regulus Black. Have you lost your wand?” Ollivander called from inside the shop. Regulus stiffened.

“Nine inches and a half, very bendy, cypress, with a dragon heartstring for the core. That was your old wand, of course.” The old man said “Do come in, you may look suspicious, lingering near the door like that.”

So the man _was_ aware that Regulus didn’t want to be seen. He narrowed his eyes.

“Why aren’t you calling the authorities?” Regulus asked, entering the shop and heading for the counter “There’s a ten thousand galleon reward for me.”

Ollivander just smiled at him. He turned around, adjusting his glasses and peering up at the boxes upon boxes full of wands.

Regulus could hear Tibbers whisper to Waters that the man seemed like a bit of a nutter. He felt compelled to agree.

“Try this one.” Ollivander said, unboxing a wand and passing it over the counter “Eleven inches and a quarter. Dragon heartstring and beech.”

For a moment Regulus stayed perfectly still, staring at the wand in the man’s hand. Then he slowly reached out and took it from his hands. He gave an uncertain flick.

The curtains at the front of the store set fire. Waters and Tibbers both swore.

Regulus bit his lip.

“Bugger.” He sighed.

“It wasn’t the right wand,” Ollivander said smilingly, setting the curtains right with a swish of his wand “I knew it wouldn’t be. You were a difficult customer the first time around as well. Nine, I believe.”

“Yes,” Regulus agreed stiffly “I was nine.”

“Highly unusual.” Said Ollivander, pulling another box off of the shelf. He paused and eyed Regulus with a considering look before putting it back and taking a different one “But _you_ are a highly unusual person.”

“I mean no offence, _sir_ , but you know nothing of me.” Regulus said bitingly.

Ollivander held the wand out.

“Ten inches, swishy, dragon heartstring. Made of cypress, of course, just like your old one. The wood a wand is made of tells a lot about the user. For instance, wands made of cypress are usually used by wizards that are a touch too self-sacrificing.”

Regulus swallowed and took the wand. It didn’t work.

They tried again and again and again. Until, finally-

“This one is fourteen inches, bendy, cypress, unicorn hair.” Said Ollivander. Regulus almost did a double take. Unicorn hair? Surely the man knew that wouldn’t work. Regulus had strayed to the dark arts, there was no way that a wand with a core like that would match up with him.

Regulus reached out and took the wand.

The curtains didn’t set fire, the light bulbs in the lamps scattered around the shop didn’t shatter, the wand didn’t fly across the room and imbed itself in the wall.

It sparked.

Pure, bright lights burst forth from the tip of the wand, floating in the air like the faeries in the stories that Sirius had read to him when they were younger.

Regulus stared.

That wasn’t…how…

Regulus breathed out in amazement. This wand – this wand with a core of unicorn hair – matched with him. It seemed impossible but-

“Thank you.” Regulus croaked out, not looking up from the wand.

He had a chance, didn’t he? He wasn’t _all_ bad, because the wand had chosen him.

“No, thank you.” Said Ollivander. Regulus looked up in surprise, the man was smiling at him “You didn’t smile the first time you came here. I’ve been waiting ten years for that.”

Regulus suddenly realised he was smiling.

* * *

 

“And just where have you been?” Hold asked as they came to a stop outside of the Leaky Cauldron.

“The wands were being picky.” Tibbers informed him.

“The…wands were being picky?” Hill asked, looking genuinely confused.

“That’s right.” Waters said.

“It’s how wands work,” said Regulus “the wand chooses the wizard. It really depends which wood and core is used inside the wand.”

Then he turned his wand on himself and muttered a few colour changing charms spells. It wasn’t advised to use transfiguration on oneself so changing the colour of his facial features would have to be enough. When Regulus took his hood down his skin was a tad darker, he had blonde hair, green eyes, and no freckles. His cousins had always remarked that they were striking as most Blacks didn’t have freckles, probably due to spending too much time inside.

Regulus, however, had a tendency to climb up onto the roof of their ancestral home and paint or sketch whenever the weather was decent and he was in the mood for it. Sirius had occasionally joined him up there before he ran away, though Sirius was absolutely horrendous with paints and Regulus had always been tempted to push him off of the roof because he was so annoying.

“Woah.” Hill said in a shocked voice, taking it in.

“I thought a subtle change would be enough, just as long as we don’t stay here too long.” Regulus said “Wearing a hood so low is pretty suspicious behaviour.”

“ _That_ could come in handy.” Said Hold, walking forward to take a closer look at his face “You can’t change your facial features though?”

Regulus slipped his wand into his coat pocket. Not the best place, but it would do until he bought a wand holster.

“It gets dangerous when you start changing body parts – and I’ve never been good at transfiguration – so a charm shall have to suffice.” He said. Then he thought for a second “Over here,” he said, starting off down the alley again “we should buy a wand holster.”

* * *

 

When they had finished shopping in Diagon Alley (and had acquired a wand holster, a copy of ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’ (Hill had been intrigued), Newt Scamander’s most recent book (Regulus was curious after having watched so much David Attenborough, and most people could agree that Newt Scamander was the best of his profession), and an assortment of chocolate (muggle chocolate just didn’t have the same appeal to it)) the sun was higher in the sky it was around eleven.

The streets were a lot more busy now and it was all Regulus could do not to bump into them. The crowd was making him nervous. He knew that people were unlikely to glance twice at him when it was a Black they were looking for and Blacks didn’t have blonde hair (except for Cissy, but she had dyed it to match her pompous husband’s irritatingly nice hair) but he still couldn’t help but worry.

“How about an early lunch.” Hold said and then lead them back into the Leaky Cauldron. Regulus was starting to wonder just how many galleons he had had on him when he went to the cave.

They sat down in a corner booth while Hold went up to the bar to order some food. Regulus supposed that he must have worked out how to use wizarding money while he was out with Hill. Now that he thought about it…just what were the two of them doing…

Regulus turned to look at Hill, a question forming on his lips.

“Were you wearing that necklace this morning?” Waters asked. Regulus frowned. There was a chain around Hill’s neck, whatever was on the end of it disappearing under her hoodie. He didn’t remember her wearing one this morning either, though he could have just not noticed.

Hill startled badly at Waters’ question.

“Well-I…I bought it. While you were at the wand shop.” She stuttered. That was very suspicious.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at the chain. It looked familiar, he was sure that he’d seen it before. Hill turned her head and the light caught on the chain, it glinted an eerie gold.

Regulus reached out.

“Here we are.” Hold’s voice called out as he approached the table with a tray full of food in his hands. Regulus’ hand faltered and he placed it back into his lap just before the tray was deposited onto the middle of the table.

Regulus’ eyes tracked Hold’s neck as he sat down. The locket was still there, the chain still around his neck. It was just as eerie as ever.

He let out a sigh of relief. So Hold hadn’t given Hill the locket.

The food on the tray was distributed to everyone at the table and they began to eat.

Hill was quick to open ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’ and she set about reading it while occasionally shovelling food into her mouth. Waters kept peeking over her shoulder in interest. Every now and then Hill would start talking about whatever story she had landed on and how the stories seemed similar to those written by ‘the brothers Grimm’.

Tibbers looked slightly confused at just about everything and slightly irritated. He seemed almost annoyed that magic existed. Regulus could understand it, it must not have been easy to have his whole understanding of the world turned around. Especially because Tibbers didn’t seem to have thought for a second that Regulus was right about the existence of the magical world before he had stepped foot in the Leaky Cauldron.

Hold seemed happy to annoy Tibbers instead of Regulus for some time, choosing to steal the occasional chip from the other man’s plate. Tibbers only rolled his eyes at this – he seemed to have a better handle of Hold than Regulus did – and took a sip from Hold’s coffee.

It was just as Regulus was taking a sip from his cup of tea that the door leading to Diagon Alley banged open. It was very loud and disrupted near about everyone in the room.

Regulus turned around in his seat and his heart stopped.

He felt his eyes widen in terror.

There, at the door, was Bellatrix Lestrange, laughing hysterically, insanely, at something her companion had said. Her companion was a seedy looking man, obviously a fellow Death Eater.

Bellatrix paused in her laughter, mouth falling open in shock. Her eyes locked on his. She recognised him.

Regulus turned around quickly, breathing heavily. His hand shook as he set the cup of tea down with a heavy clang. He removed the hand from the handle of the cup with shaky fingers and clasped it tightly in his other hand in an attempt to ground himself.

It didn’t work quite so well. He could almost feel the grabbing, clutching, maddening hands of the inferi ghosting over him. Their horrific screeches filling his head.

“Is something wrong, Regulus?” Asked Hill. And Regulus almost started screaming right then and there, because Bellatrix was somewhere behind him and Hill had practically just confirmed his identity.

Bellatrix’s glittering dark robe entered his field of vision as she stopped beside their table. She looked down at Regulus with wide eyes and a face changed by years of madness. Regulus looked up into that face and he almost recognised something of himself in there, could almost understand what it was like to be her.

The inferi clutched and climbed him like a rope, dragged him under and drowned him, held him under the water until his every last breath died down and he became a limp, dead body.

And then Bellatrix looked away and continued on her way to a table. Regulus started breathing again.

“We should leave.” He said, reaching across the table to take the book from Hill’s hands and shrink it before placing it in his pocket with everything else they had bought. Hold looked at Bellatrix for a long moment with suspicion, but then he agreed and they made their way outside quickly.

Just as soon as the door closed behind them Regulus turned around.

“Expelliarmus!” Regulus casted blindly. He saw Waters and Tibbers fly back along the pavement, Hold trip over the stairs and fall flat on his face.

He quickly ran over to the older man and turned him over, pulling at his neck and scraping his nails against it in a panicked haze. He pulled on the chain, yanked it up and out of Hold’s shirt.

It was wrong.

It wasn’t the locket. It wasn’t the horcrux.

It was just a chain with small model snitch attached to the end of it.

An arm flung itself over his upper body and Regulus noticed that the fabric on it was the same teal as Hill’s hoodie.

“No!” Regulus shouted, clutching tighter at his wand. He pulled it up just as he felt something small and pointy jab into his neck. It was a needle, probably, it felt like a needle.

Regulus elbowed Hill off of him and stood up. He turned on her and aimed his wand and-

She looked so helpless there, lying back against the ground. But she wasn’t helpless, her eyes told a different story. His wand was pulled from his hand and Regulus couldn’t really do anything about it. His mind felt foggy.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Hold murmured, and Regulus felt himself being pulled back against someone’s chest. He worried about Bellatrix drowsily.

“We need to…” He stuttered out “…Bellatrix…sh-she’s…”

“It’s alright.” Said Hold.

No. No, it wasn’t alright, Regulus thought. It was everything but alright. Bellatrix had seen him. Bellatrix would kill him, hurt him, she’d drown him.

“I don’t want to drown again!” Regulus pleaded shakily.

“You won’t.” said Hold.

But he would. He would. He knew he would. Bellatrix would…

Regulus slumped over, his vision turning black. He fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so Regulus is pretty much screwed, Bellatrix is gonna murder him in his sleep or something haha (not really though cause that would be a pretty anti-climactic end to the story and I have a lot of character development planned for Bellatrix in the second and third parts of this series).
> 
> And the muggles aren't as harmless as they seem. But Reggie's a bit of a weakling and shit at planning so...
> 
> You can talk to me on tumblr over here: https://achairwithapandaonit.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

Regulus woke slowly, feeling wobbly and tired. He snuggled deeper into the white cushions and breathed them in. They weren’t the same sterile ones from the hospital, they smelt different. Regulus propped himself up drowsily and looked around.

He was in a room with white walls and pale wooden floors. There wasn’t very much in the way of decoration in the room, just a blue rug beside the bed and a lamp standing tall next to a dresser. The left side of the room was covered completely by curtains, and right in front of him was a door.

Regulus stumbled out of the bed and over to the curtains. He pulled them aside and blinked slowly at the light that filled the room. Behind the curtains was a wall of windows, a glass door in the middle of them.

He knew that he had to be somewhere, or maybe it was just that he had to be not there. He wasn’t quite sure of anything really, though, he was just very disorientated.

There was a key in the lock of the door and Regulus turned it, hearing a clicking sound as it unlocked. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door. It only came forward a few inches before coming to a stop. Regulus looked at it. He pushed it to the side this time. It actually worked, which wasn’t surprising seeing as muggles were strange. What was wrong with a normal door? Why did this one have to slide instead of open.

He walked out onto a small balcony, feeling the wind ruffle his hair. It felt like he was high up. He probably _was_ high up. 

He blinked down at the streets of muggle London hazily, watching as buses and cars whizzed on by. He wondered just why he was up so high. It must have been higher than the tenth floor, as there were many windows trailing down below.

And then he remembered.

Regulus’ heart pounded at the memory of Bellatrix’s pale, terrifying face. He turned from the balcony and ran for the bedroom, leaving the sliding door open in his haste. He made quickly for the bedroom’s door and threw it open, skidding to a halt in a big, open room. It seemed to be sectioned off into two parts – one a kitchen, and the other a living room.

The living room section had a large blue sofa and two armchairs pointed in the direction of a muggle fireplace (and it was obviously muggle because there wasn’t a chimney. Muggles were so stupid, Regulus often wondered how they had survived for so long). There was a TV plastered to the wall above the fireplace, and a small clock perched on top of the fireplace. The coffee table between the sofa and the fireplace was circular and made of glass.

The kitchen was very muggle, much like everything else that he had seen in the last few weeks. It was pristine white with dark grey accents, boxy and sharp in a way that Regulus had never seen before. Three stools sat behind a section of counters, marking quite obviously where people were meant to sit down and eat.

There was a door next to the kitchen area, leading, presumably, to a bathroom.

Regulus didn’t much like that – it wasn’t very sophisticated to eat in the kitchen. Well, muggles were rather barbari-

They weren’t at all though. And he’d do best to remember that.

Regulus passed it by quickly and flung the front door open.

“You should stay inside.” Tibbers said, stepping out in front of him.

“I need to go.” Regulus said quickly. When Tibbers didn’t move out of his way he tried to walk around him. Tibbers just took hold of his arm and tried to lead him back inside.

“I really must go!” Regulus yelped, squeezing at Tibbers’ grip on his arm. The thing about Regulus, though, was that he wasn’t very strong at all. His attempts to remove Tibbers were downright pathetic at best.

“And our superiors really don’t think you should. Just stay here. We’ll bring the locket and the wand by tomorrow and then you can get rid of the thing. I’m sure our superiors will be alright with letting you go once you’ve dealt with it.” Tibbers said with a slightly annoyed voice, strong-arming Regulus over to the sofa and pushing him down into it.

Regulus saw Waters’ impassive face through the open door, Hold and Hill didn’t seem to be there though. Then Regulus remembered the chains around both of their necks.

“They tricked me!” He realised.

“And a good thing too, otherwise you’d be off on the other side of the world and we’d have no idea whether or not the locket was dealt with. Hill says sorry for drugging you by the way.”

Drugging? That would have been whatever she had jabbed into his neck then. But still, what did any of this matter when Bellatrix could be lurking somewhere nearby right at that very moment?

“Bellatrix is going to-“ Regulus tried. Tibbers muffled it with a hand on his mouth.

“Look,” He said tiredly “I’m sorry you had a super terrible wizard freak out or whatever that was, but you’re going to be gone tomorrow anyway, as soon as you’ve destroyed that thing, so who cares. Our superiors have arranged this apartment for you for however long you want to stay afterwards, but you’re welcome to fuck off tomorrow if you don’t want to stay. In fact, please do. All this wizarding shit is giving me a headache.”

Regulus suddenly realised that Tibbers wasn’t going to let him leave no matter what he said. And he didn’t have his wand on him – it was likely that Hold had it – so he was useless once again. Regulus sighed.

He could wait until tomorrow, when they gave him his wand back, to obliviate them all and leave with the horcrux. He could wait that long.

The question, though, was whether or not Bellatrix was willing to wait that long.

Regulus watched with quite a lot of annoyance as Tibbers left the room, locking the door behind him. He wasn’t just annoyed though, he was scared too. Bellatrix had definitely seen him in the Leaky Cauldron. She’d stopped at the table and stared him down.

And she wouldn’t just let that go.

This was Bellatrix, and Bellatrix was nothing if not obsessive. Regulus disappearance was enough of an indication that he’d betrayed the Dark Lord. Bellatrix didn’t take kindly to people who betrayed the Dark Lord.

Regulus sat there for a while, staring blankly at the pale walls of the apartment, listening to the ticking of the clock. Every tick was a second closer to death, he supposed.

The silence definitely wasn’t good for him – It was making his thoughts run, making him panic more – but he didn’t feel much like watching the muggle television, and he definitely didn’t feel like talking to Waters and Tibbers. It was just as well, Tibbers _had_ locked the door.

Regulus sat there until he began to feel hungry. And then he sat there for a little while longer out of stubbornness. Eventually, when the clock read 18:52, Regulus got up from the sofa and made his way over the kitchen. He paused as soon as he set foot in it, feeling his already dampened mood become even further dampened.

He had no idea what all these appliances were. The stove was obvious, there was a stove at Grimmauld place. But he didn’t know what the large cuboid in the corner was, nor what the small metal things on the counters were.

Just as he was giving up hope he noticed a piece of paper on one of the counters. He picked it up.

 _‘Regulus,’_ it read _‘I expect that you don’t know what a fridge is, or a microwave, so I felt it would probably be best to leave you this note. The big metal box in the corner (it’s a lot taller than everything else in the room so it will hopefully be easy for you to identify) is called a fridge. It’s very cold and we’ve left some food in there for you. The food will probably look strange to you because the downside to having magic seems to be living your life as an Amish person. There are instructions on the sleeve it comes in and it will reference a microwave – the microwave is the metal box in the corner, next to the kettle. I’m guessing you know what a kettle is? There were kettles two hundred years ago I’m sure. Just not ones that are technologically advanced._

_See you tomorrow,_

_Daniel hold.’_

Regulus couldn’t even manage to muster anger at the slightly mocking letter. He was just feeling numb. He knew he would be dead soon.

He looked in the fridge and found the thing that Hold must have been referring to. It was a plastic cuboid with a film over the top of it. The sleeve that Hold mentioned in the letter wasn’t a shirt sleeve but a thing that went around the cuboid. Regulus supposed it could technically be called a sleeve. It functioned like one after all.

The sleeve had a picture of a pasta dish on it and said ‘chicken and bacon pasta bake’ on the front.

Regulus managed to cook it using the instructions on the back, though he was very confused while doing so. The struggle wasn’t really in the cooking of it though, it was more in the eating of it.

He barely managed two bites before he couldn’t stomach the idea of eating anymore.

Regulus remembered that Sirius used to make fun of him for not eating very much. He’d even kept it up while they were at Hogwarts together, coming over and piling food onto Regulus’ plate at least once a week, chattering inanely about anorexia and death by starvation. But Sirius wasn’t there to make sure he ate – hadn’t been for the last two years – and Regulus had no one around to force him to eat.

He missed Sirius. He’d been missing Sirius for a very long time. But Sirius probably wasn’t missing him – he had James Potter and Peter Pettigrew to fulfil Regulus’ purpose as a brother. Perhaps not Remus Lupin, because Sirius had snogged Remus Lupin at least once and that wasn’t very brotherly behaviour, despite what various people in the Black ancestry might say on the matter.

Regulus would have hated James Potter if it wasn’t for the fact that the man was a better brother to Sirius than Regulus had ever been. Sirius was happy and that was enough.

After a while of contemplating Regulus ate a few more bites (just to appease Sirius, even if he wasn’t there). It was the best he could do, there was no way he could eat any more. Regulus left the plate on the counter and returned to the bedroom.

It was only eight something but Regulus wasn’t really sure what else to do. There was nothing he wanted to do. At least if he went to bed then it would speed the process along.

The room was cold and Regulus shivered. He made his way over to the sliding door and closed it. This did little to warm the room up and he found himself under the sheets in no time. He was still cold but at least he wasn’t _as_ cold.

He closed his eyes and tried to steady his beating heart. Bellatrix would be upon him in no time, he would be dead, drowned.

Regulus drifted off in the cold room, unable to turn his thoughts from the matter.

* * *

 

The inferius groaned, moving sluggishly towards him. Regulus shivered, watching it under the harsh green light. Its hand scraped against the rocky island, clutching at it. The fingers moved.

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

Regulus screamed as the hand shot up and wrapped around his ankle. He fell the ground, hands catching on the rocks and bruising. The hand pulled, dragged him across the island, towards the water, and Regulus kept screaming.

He screamed and screamed and screamed and then―

He woke up, face pressed into his pillow, no wet with tears. Regulus groaned, breathing deeply.

“ _Bite your tongue,_

 _Swear to keep your mouth shut,_ ”

Regulus froze. There was someone in the apartment – someone singing. He recognised that voice. A chill ran down his spine.

She was here.

“ _Ask yourself,_

_Will I burn in hell?”_

Shaking, he forced himself to lower his face back down onto the pillow. His heart beat erratically in his chest.

“ _Then write it down,_

 _And cast it well,_ ”

Was she planning on burning him? Was that what she was planning? It definitely couldn’t be worse than drowning. Regulus was still scared. He had been scared a lot recently, but never as scared as this. If he kept like this, kept still with his face pressed into the pillow, then maybe she would think he was sleeping and leave.

And then he could run.

“ _There they are,_

_The mob it cries for blood,_

_To twist the tale,_

_Into fore wood,_

_Fan the flames,_

_With a little lie,_

_Then turn your cheek,_

_Until the fire dies,_

_The skin it peels-_ “

Regulus couldn’t help but gasp at that. She paused. He held his breath.

“I knew you were awake,” She said “you’d stopped screaming, Reggie. It’s a shame. I was enjoying listening to your screams.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists.

He felt the bed dip as she sat down next to him. A hand came up to his head to comb through his hair, deceivingly soft. Regulus shuddered, feeling tears come to his eyes.

“Why did you do it Reggie? Why are you here with these dirty muggles?” She asked in a crooning voice, as if she was talking to a child. Regulus said nothing, he just shook. She pulled harshly on his hair. Regulus yelped.

“You should answer me when I speak to you.” She snarled into his ear.

This was it, he knew. She was going to kill him. To torture him. She was going to snap and paint the apartment red with his blood. He was a Black, and he’d always known he wouldn’t live for long – this was what he was made for. Blacks were insane, full of madness and despair and tragedy. He was going to –

Regulus screamed. He threw himself away from her, across the bed, up against the sliding glass door, and screamed as loudly as he could.

Bellatrix’s mad, mad eyes glinted in the moonlight. She looked like a wild cat, about to strike, about to bite through his jugular with one loud crunch. Sharp teeth biting, biting, stabbing, like an inferius.

Regulus screamed.

Bellatrix laughed insanely.

“Have you caught the Black madness too, cousin?” She raved, eyes alight with glee, tangled hair frizzing wildly about her face.

Regulus just screamed at her. _He had_. _He had!_ He had caught the madness. He breathed and lived in fear. Rotting hands carving into his flesh like blunt knives. Dead eyes rolling round and round, plastic and fish-like. He could see it all, so clear in his mind. The inferi dragged him under.

He drowned.

He screamed.

He pushed the sliding door aside and fell back against the railing of the balcony. Bellatrix laughed like a nightmare, giggling and falling against him.

“What did you do!” She asked wondrously, clutching him by the shoulders and staring him in his dead eyes.

“I don’t…I’m not…” Regulus stuttered, feeling ill. He felt sick. He was going to throw up. He wasn’t in his own skin.

He doesn’t what? He isn’t what?

_He’s not like her._

But he was. He was mad. He’d maddened himself on potion and he wouldn’t ever escape that. He didn’t want to be a dead thing, doesn’t want to be dead thing, won’t want to be a dead thing.

He was a dead thing. Just like Bellatrix, he was mad and dead. He died in the cave and succumbed to madness. He drowned in the cave and fell into death. He was alive. He was dead.

H  e    W   a   s    D  e  a  d   .

He wasn’t sure what to do. He screamed. Grabbed onto her arms and screamed and cried and looked into her mad eyes and screamed.

 

_BANG!_

He wasn’t human, wasn’t alive. He was an inferius. He drowned. He died. He screamed.

“Calm down!” A voice yelled.

Regulus screamed back at it.

“Please, calm down!” It yelled again.

Something was clutching at his shoulders, shaking him. It wanted him to calm down. Regulus didn’t want to calm down, couldn’t possibly calm down.

“Please!” It said.

It wasn’t Bellatrix though. It didn’t sound like her. Its voice wasn’t drenched in madness, wasn’t a lilting call of death. Its voice was normal. It was normal.

It wasn’t a dead thing, not like Regulus.

“Come on, breath with me.” It said, taking his hand and placing it over its chest. He could feel its heart beating beneath his fingertips. It felt nothing like the rotting flesh of an inferius.

“In and out. Come on.” Regulus concentrated on that, listened to the pulse beneath his fingers.

In…and out. In…and out. In…and out.

He felt his breath settling back to normal, felt the coldness of the night, the wind rustling his hair, his tear-soaked face. He felt tired.

“Yes, that’s it. You’re alright.” The voice said. Regulus looked up and saw Waters’ strict face. It didn’t look strict right now though, it looked worried. Her blue eyes were soft. He became aware, suddenly, that he was collapsed on the balcony, sitting on the hard, wooden floor.

“I…I’m alright.” He said.

Waters didn’t look convinced.

He angled his head to look past her crouched form. Tibbers was standing in his bedroom, talking into his phone. He turned to look at Regulus with a serious expression. It wasn’t an irritated one, just serious and pale.

Evidently his screaming had shaken the two of them up.

Where was Bellatrix? Regulus frowned.

“She’s not here.” Waters said.

“She _was_ here though, wasn’t she?” Regulus asked. He brought his hand down to trace over the wood beneath him. There was something wet beneath his fingers. He looked down at it.

Blood.

“Yes.” Waters said, pulling his hand away from the blood “We shot at her. She got scared and ran.”

That didn’t make sense. Bellatrix didn’t get scared. Bellatrix never got scared.

“She didn’t expect the guns.” Tibbers called helpfully from the bedroom.

That made…sense…in a roundabout way, at least. Regulus had been surprised the first time he’d seen Waters fire a gun too. Wait a second…guns? As in plural? As in more than one?

“Do all muggles have guns?” He asked worriedly. The idea that every single muggle in the world had access to these weapons was slightly terrifying. But then again, all wizards had access to a powerful weapon. A wand was just as much a weapon as a tool.

Regulus had proved that earlier when he’d attacked the four of them.

Waters squeezed his hand.

“Most of us don’t.” She said “They’re banned in England. Seeing as we’re armed forces, though, we’re allowed them when we’re on duty.”

Regulus could feel himself calming down. He was safe here, with Waters and Tibbers.

But for how long he would be safe was debatable.

Bellatrix could come back any time.

And there was also the matter of his mental breakdown, if it could be called that. It felt like so much more than a mental breakdown. It felt as if he was mad. As if he was like Bellatrix. As if he was like mother.

Madness was standard in the Black family.

Regulus didn’t want to be mad.

“I…I…” stuttered Regulus.

“It’s alright,” said Waters, helping him off of the floor “come on. Hot chocolate will make you feel better.”

But it wasn’t alright. And even though he was safe here with Waters and Tibbers, he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be alone, or with someone he trusted. But he only trusted one person, and that person was Kreacher, and he didn’t want to put Kreacher down in the Dark Lord’s path again.

Kreacher wasn’t the only person he trusted though. He hated to admit it, but he’d trust Sirius with his life – with thousands of peoples’ lives. Sirius was good and Regulus nearly always felt safe when he was around.

Just like with Kreacher, though, Regulus had no intention of bringing the Dark Lord’s attention to Sirius.

Regulus had signed his death warrant when he’d gone after the horcrux and he’d be the only one paying for it.

He let himself be lead to the living room. And he let himself be sat in one of the arm chairs. And he let himself drink from the mug of hot chocolate that Waters gave him. He didn’t let himself relax.

He was on edge the entire time, jumping at every little noise, staring into the shadows and wondering if Bellatrix was going to leap out of them with the word crucio spilling from her lips. It was nerve-wracking and possibly even worse than the day before (the clock now read 1:13).

He looked down into his hot chocolate tiredly. It tasted very nice, Regulus would give it that. But wizarding chocolate was a lot better than muggle chocolate and all he really felt like in that moment was Honeydukes. Honeydukes did the best chocolate. Regulus had a stock of Honeydukes chocolate hidden in a secret compartment in his bed at home. He’d made the compartment himself, because Sirius had kept trying to steal his chocolate.

After that, whenever Sirius had tried to force his way into Regulus’ chocolate stash he’d always found himself on the receiving end of a strong jelly-fingers curse.

Regulus giggled as he remembered the look on Sirius’ face the first time he’d touched the secret compartment.

“Something funny?” Tibbers asked.

Regulus shook his head, fighting a smile. He tapped his fingers against the rim of the mug for a few seconds, pondering on whether or not he should drink it. He decided not to. It was Honeydukes or nothing. He put the mug down on the coffee table.

He had to admit, he was feeling a bit better after thinking of Sirius. Regulus would never tell him how attached he was, the man (and he supposed Sirius really was a man now. He _was_ twenty) would never let it go.

Despite this, Bellatrix would still murder him when she found him. No one, not even Sirius, could protect him from her.

The door opened and Regulus turned slowly to look over to it.

Hold walked through, a bag slung over his shoulder, looking vaguely concerned. He closed the door behind him and crossed the room. Regulus just looked at him blankly.

“She hasn’t returned.” Waters said bluntly. Hold nodded at that.

“Care to tell us who _she_ is?” Hold asked, bending down to make eye contact with Regulus.

Something in Regulus snapped. Purebloods weren’t supposed to fight without a wand but Regulus had had enough. He reached up and yanked Hold down by the fabric of his shirt.

“Where. Is. My. Wand?” He asked. Hold looked at him in surprise, blinking. Regulus tightened his grip.

And then…Hold smirked.

“Why would we give you a weapon?” He said. This was a bad choice.

Regulus pushed outwards, leaning his whole body into it. He had no idea how to fight like a muggle but he’d be damned if he let that stop him. Hold, so surprised by Regulus actually attempting to attack him, didn’t really stand much of a chance.

He fell to the floor and Regulus snatched the bag from his shoulder. He ran across the room, dodging Tibbers’ attempt to grab him and unzipped the bag. He shoved his hand inside and grabbed onto the first thing his fingers touched. Miraculously, this turned out to be his wand.

“Stop that!” Hold shouted, rushing over to him.

“Protego!” Regulus casted, dropping the bag quickly. Hold bumped into the invisible barrier, Tibbers and Waters right behind him.

“Dammit! More of this wizard crap!” shouted Tibbers, slamming his hands onto the barrier angrily. Waters paused and gave it an inquisitorial look. She poked at it uncertainly with her pointer finger.

Regulus considered breaking the spell. He considered running out of the building and making his way back to twelve Grimmauld place. But then he considered the fact that Bellatrix had been in the area in probably the last half hour. And he considered the fact that she was likely lurking nearby, regardless of injury.

He looked at the almost disappointed look on Hold’s face and, scowling, drew his wand.

The three muggles flinched, but Regulus wasn’t casting at them.

“Protego totalum.” He mumbled, pointing his wand at the windows behind them. The view from outside the window turned hazy, just as it was supposed to. Regulus brought down the protection spell that he’d put around himself and walked forward, passing the others. They all looked very confused but they weren’t making any moves to stop him.

He casted the spell again, at the walls surrounding the window. He went round the perimeter of the room casting the spell, and then he did the same for the bathroom and bedroom.

Once he was happy with that, he started on a new spell – salvio hexia. And, once again, he went around the perimeter of the apartment. He wasn’t such a powerful wizard that he could cover the entire apartment with just one use of the spell.

He was feeling even more exhausted by time he had done this but, still, he went on.

Cave inimicum was a good one to use. It was likely that Bellatrix would think that he _had_ run if he casted it, as cave inimicum made people on the other side of the boundary unable to see or hear people inside it. Regulus wasn’t quite good enough that he could make it so she wouldn’t be able to see them, but he could do this.

He stopped and stood in the middle of the living room afterwards, feeling marginally safer.

Hold had left by now, it seemed. Regulus’ non offensive spell casting had likely appeased him. Tibbers and Waters, however, were sitting on the sofa. They looked at him in confusion, both of them raising eyebrows.

“What was that?” Waters asked.

“Protection spells.” Regulus said. He yawned then and fell back into his chair. Waters made an understanding noise. Tibbers didn’t, Tibbers just looked irritated. Tibbers often looked irritated.

“I think the question we need to be asking is _who_ was that.” Tibbers growled, crossing his arms and slouching further into the sofa.

“My cousin.”

“Your cousin seems crazy, no offence.”

“I know that.” Said Regulus tiredly “Everyone knows that.”

And then he had a thought. He’d casted all these spells, but if Bellatrix told the Dark Lord about his continued existence then their existence would probably be mute.

“What I need is a wizard-repelling charm.” Regulus realised.

“You can do that?” Asked Waters.

“No,” Regulus said, frowning slightly “but it would be handy.”

Waters looked at him with consideration. She shrugged and pushed his now cold hot chocolate across the table and towards him.

“Can you heat it up?” she asked. Regulus did so with a flick of his wand.

“Thanks.” Waters said, picking it up and bringing it to her lips. Tibbers looked a bit like a wet cat, still not understanding this break on his view of the world.

Regulus just hummed in reply, settling back into the seat. His eyes slipped closed.

A wizard-repelling charm, he thought, wondering if such a thing was possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's totally gonna invent a wizard-repelling spell guys. Reg is a clever guy. He'll probably have a lot of trouble working around not repelling himself though.
> 
> The song that Bellatrix sings is just a random one I found on google cause I can't make up song lyrics for shit.
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr here: https://achairwithapandaonit.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter 7

Regulus eyed his spellwork with uncertainty, wondering if it would hold. He’s been very tired the night before. It was rather late in the day now, much later than he usually got up, and no one had turned up with the horcrux yet. It was evident that Hold and his team wanted to give him some time to get his bearings after what had happened.

But that wasn't as comforting as it was most likely intended to be. Regulus didn't know how to destroy the horcrux and they were all counting on him to do just that. His best guess was a killing curse, but he doubted a wand with unicorn hair as the core would allow him to cast such a thing.

Sighing, Regulus turned back to the window. He couldn't actually see where his spells had clung onto it so he must have done something right.

Still...they had been set to properly learn the more powerful protection charms _after_ Christmas break, and Regulus had gone to the cave _during_ Christmas break.

Sure, he had read about them in books, and he had apparently managed to cast them while sleep deprived and scared out of his mind, but he wasn't entirely confident in his abilities. Regulus plastered himself against the window and peered out of it, wondering if any of the muggles down there would be looking up at him, and was reminded that he was above the tenth floor at the very least and neither he nor the muggles would be able to see each other from such a distance.

This didn't do anything to confirm whether or not his spellwork would hold against Bellatrix’s eye. And knowing her, she'd already told the Dark Lord of his continued existence.

But she might not have. Some part of Regulus hoped against all the odds that she hadn't told him. There was a chance – a very small chance but a chance none the less – that the shame of being beaten, injured, by muggles may have been too much for her. Regulus knew that he wouldn't have informed the Dark Lord if he was in a similar situation.

The man's fury would be monumental.

This still didn’t mean that Bellatrix hadn’t told him though. She _was_ insane.

Just to be sure, Regulus pulled out his new wand and began making his rounds of the apartment, muttering protection spells as he went.

He'd just finished up with the first spell and was half way around the living room with the second one when the front door opened. He held his wand up defensively.

This seemed to be unnecessary, however, as it was Hold at the door and, when Hill wasn't positioned behind Regulus with a needle ready, he was easy pickings. Not that Regulus was going to fight him. He had no reason to fight him in that moment. But if he wanted to he could.

Regulus lowered his wand.

“You’re on guard? That's good. Your cousin gave us quite the scare.” The man commented, moving into the room. Tibbers was behind him and shut the door as he entered. Just before the door could properly close Regulus saw Hill and Waters looking in from the gap. Hill looked vaguely apologetic.

Regulus glared over at Hold.

“She gives everyone a scare. That's what she does, she scares people. She’s a scary person.” Regulus said bluntly, moving over to one of the armchairs and collapsing into it. He crossed his legs and then did the same with his arms before staring up at the two men moodily “Well?” He raised an eyebrow “What do you want?”

He had a fair idea of what the man wanted but it wouldn’t do to bring it up himself. That would only make him play into Hold’s hand. Hold wanted him to ask about the horcrux, so he could make fun of him.

Hold looked at him with amusement.

“Someone's in a mood.” Hold said. Tibbers started badly and turned to him.

“Don't bait him!” He whispered “Remember what happened outside the wizard pub!”

He looked stressed, but there was an under-current of acceptance, as if he had come to expect Hold to do things like this and knew there was no way to stop him. Regulus suddenly realised that Tibbers must have known Hold for years. He felt very sorry for him.

“It's fine,” Regulus assured Tibbers, hoping that he didn't look as annoyed as he was “I’ve come to expect Hold’s idiocy. I shan't let it bother me.”

Tibbers’ expression seemed to say that Regulus was a bad liar. Regulus took offence to that – he was an excellent liar.

Regulus glared at him for a few seconds, just to get the message across. And then he turned to Hold.

“Not that it's any of your business,” he said “but I’m rather worried for my life. Worrying for one's life isn't the greatest motivation for a good mood, and neither is seeing your face.”

“That's lovely Regulus.” Said Hold cheerily, as if Regulus hadn’t just insulted him. He grinned at Regulus for a few seconds, likely attempting to goad him into anger before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the horcrux.

Regulus’ breath caught in his throat.

“We're here,” Hold told him, holding the horcrux up to the light with interest “to destroy this thing. You've got a wand now, there's no reason you can't get rid of it. Catch.”

The last bit caught Regulus off guard. He fumbled slightly and clumsily caught the horcrux that had been thrown at him. Regulus clutched at the tainted thing uncertainly.

“Well?” Tibbers prompted.

Regulus bit at his bottom lip. He set the locket on the coffee table and held up his wand.

“Bombarda?” He tried, knowing it was useless. The coffee table shattered in an array of glass, its wooden legs splintering. Regulus flinched away from the destruction, casting a quick protection spell in front of himself.

“Try a bit more damage control next time!” Tibbers shouted from behind the sofa, having vaulted over it in the wake of the spell. Hold was not so lucky and, though he hadn't been injured, he had had been rained down upon by the tiny shards of glass.

“So sorry.” Regulus muttered absentmindedly, vanishing the glass shards from Hold's body. He turned to glare at the horcrux, sitting not so innocently in the wreckage of the coffee table.

“Are you sure you know how to destroy this thing?” Hold asked, coming closer to frown at the locket.

Regulus faltered.

“No.” He admitted.

“No?!” Tibbers shouted out in anger, clutching at the back of the sofa “What do you mean ‘no’?!”

Regulus bristled.

“Calm down Jacob.” Hold said. He made a move as if to lay a comforting hand on Tibbers’ shoulder before letting the hand drop limply at his side. Instead, he turned to Regulus tiredly “I expected as much. Do you at least know if there’s a way to find out how to destroy it? Are there any books?”

Regulus paused uncertainly. This had gone down better than he expected. Maybe Tibbers looked like he was holding himself back from murder, but at least Hold was being civil about it. It was another reminder that Hold could actually be serious, that there was a lot more to him than Regulus had first thought.

But the only books they could possibly get access to on this topic were at twelve Grimmuald place. And Regulus didn't want to go there – his mother and father would both be there. They'd both be right there with their uncaring caring, and he just couldn't deal with it any longer. Not to mention that Bellatrix was probably lurking outside somewhere.

A wizard-repelling charm really would come in handy.

“You're thinking about something.” Hold prompted “What are you thinking about?”

Regulus frowned at him, wondering whether or not he should tell him about the books at twelve Grimmauld place.

“There are…I _do_ know of a place where there might be books on the topic.” He said hesitantly. At Hold’s raised eyebrow and Tibbers’ unimpressed face he elaborated “It’s…well, it’s my home. Where I grew up. There are all manners of books on dark magic in our library. I just…I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

“Why?” Said Hold “You’ve stuck with us this far. Why can’t you tell us this? You’re eighteen Regulus, you shouldn’t have to deal with all of this on your own.”

That was true. Regulus _was_ eighteen, and he could hardly imagine any of his year mates doing such dangerous things. He doubted even Sirius had been so reckless at eighteen. But…

“This is _my_ mission.” Regulus resolved. It felt right to say such a thing, more right than anything had since he’d went to the cave. He realised then just how much he’d allowed these muggles to string him along, how much of a backseat he’d taken to _his_ mission.

“You needn’t help me. I have everything sorted. Thank you for your hospitality but I really must sort everything out myself.” Regulus got up from the chair and casted a quick reparo at the broken coffee table.

“So you don’t need any help.” Hold said carefully “But you’ve already put all those spells up around the apartment, so why leave? You have no where else to go. Well, you could go home, but you didn’t look happy to mention your home just now.”

Regulus sighed and snatched the horcrux from the coffee table.

“I should have left ages ago. By staying here I’m endangering all of you. You’re just muggles, and muggles are so…so much more _vulnerable_ than wizards, so much more breakable. You can shoot a gun, but Bellatrix knows about that now, and she can do almost anything with her wand. She could kill you with a word.”

Regulus put the locket around his neck (and he really hated doing that, but it was the best way to keep track of it) and made for the door, being sure to cast protego around himself as he went.

“I think we’d be much more vulnerable if you left though.” Hold said. Regulus’ hand paused on the door handle.

“What?” He asked, turning around to regard the man with a confused look.

Hold smirked at him.

“Your cousin’s already been to this apartment, remember? She probably remembers what Jacob and Elain look like, considering the fact that Jacob shot her. If you leave and they get hurt because you’re not around to protect them, then isn’t it your fault? You brought us into this, after all.”

He was manipulating him, Regulus realised, and it was working. The man would make a good Slytherin. Regulus didn’t want to stay but he’d never forgive himself if they got hurt because he’d left them unprotected.

And then he had a thought. About that wizard-repelling charm. If he could work it out, if he could create this spell, then he could place it over the four muggles and they’d be safe without him needing to be there.

There was, of course, the problem of making sure he wasn’t caught within the charm’s radius. And a lot of wizards lived in muggle area. He didn’t want to disrupt their lives.

But the charm was an ingenious idea.

Regulus hadn’t made a spell before, but this would be the answer to all his problems.

“I’ll stay.” Regulus decided “But only for now. Once the horcrux is gone and you’re safe I’ll leave you on your own.”

“Good.” Said Hold “Then you can tell us about your home? With the books?”

He didn’t want to, but he didn’t have much of a choice. If he was to destroy the horcrux he would need books on them, which could be found at Grimmauld place. Ideally, he’d like to work out the wizard-repelling charm beforehand, but he didn’t know how to go about it and Grimmauld place likely had books on creating spells somewhere. So the only option was to go to Grimmauld place.

His mother and father would be a problem. But that was easily sorted by going there after ten on a Sunday, as the two had tea with aunt Druella and uncle Cygnus then.

Regulus was confident that he could make his way in and out of the house undetected. It was possible that he might even see Kreacher. Regulus was really missing the old house elf.

* * *

 

The plan to get to Grimmauld place was a simple matter, Regulus decided. He would cast a disillusionment charm on himself, Tibbers, and Waters before they exited the apartment, on the chance that Bellatrix was lurking outside. Then the five of them (as Hill was obviously coming, and Hold was something of a requirement if Regulus went anywhere apparently) would then pile into Hold’s car and drive across London towards Grimmauld place.

This would all be done around nine in the morning, an hour before the house would be vacated. The hour time slot was somewhat generous as it would likely only take thirty minutes to get there by car, but Regulus decided that they get there early in case of the traffic. He still remembered how dreadful the journey to the leaky cauldron had been.

Muggles really needed to learn a more convenient method of transport.

Regulus nodded down at the plan he’d written in the notepad Hold had given him with satisfaction. It was a good plan, much better than the one he’d come up with when going to the cave.

The armchair below him creaked softly as he shifted.

He fingered the strange quill he’d been given, which had worked better than he’d expected it to. It was the muggle version of a self-inking quill, he assumed. Tibbers had said it was called a biro pen and that he really needed to get his head out of the middle ages.

Regulus preferred quills. He had a beautiful selection at home that he’d be sure to pilfer when they got there. He briefly entertained the idea of taking his father’s most prized one too – one with a jobberknoll feather on the end, perhaps the only quill in existence with that kind of feather as quills weren’t generally made with jobberknoll feathers. It had always captivated him as a child.

Thinking of things to take while at Grimmauld place, Regulus could probably do with some wizarding clothes. On the chance that he decided to go into a wizarding community any time soon they would come in handy. It wouldn’t do to be confused with a muggle.

And he really was missing his broomstick. It was unlikely that he’d find himself able to fly on it in London of all places, but it was always good to have an escape plan if things went wrong. And then, of course, his paints, and sketchbooks. But it wouldn’t do to take much else, otherwise it would be obvious that he’d been there.

In fact, he could probably do without the paints and sketchbooks.

He’d be too busy researching the horcrux and spell making to paint anything anyway.

Regulus frowned at the thought and scratched at the paper with the muggle quill. It left a slightly blotted line.

Regulus wondered if there would be any dog hairs on his belongings. There was _usually_ dog hair all over his belongings, courtesy of the dog that he had once seen eating his paints. It was a big, black scary thing, looking almost exactly like a Grim. Regulus was sure it was Sirius’ fault, he just wasn’t sure how.

The dog had disappeared when Sirius had ran away, giving more proof that Sirius was the instigator of this attack on Regulus’ person.

It _had_ appeared a couple of times afterwards, and Regulus could have sworn that he’d seen it at Hogwarts multiple times over the years, but the sightings had dwindled down very quickly.

The last time he had seen the dog had been the previous year, near the end of the Summer holidays. And even then it hadn’t lingered for long.

“What are you thinking about?” a nervous voice asked. Regulus looked up to see Hill entering the room. She still looked troubled by what had happened the day before.

“My brother. He’s an asshole.” Regulus said. He wanted to tell Hill that it was alright and that he didn’t really blame her for drugging him, as he _had_ attacked them, but he wasn’t really sure how to do so.

Hill sorted that out for him.

“I’m sorry about jabbing you.” She said.

“It’s alright,” Regulus replied, fiddling with the muggle quill “I attacked first.”

Hill nodded, though she still looked nervous, and sat down in the armchair opposite him.

“Hold’s called off guarding times. He said you weren’t going to run and that it would make it less obvious you’re here.” She said “We’re all staying a floor down by the way. Just until this is all finished.”

“Alright.” Said Regulus. He tapped at the paper with the muggle pen.

“I really am sorry, you know.” Hill burst out.

“I know, it’s fine.” Regulus said.

And then, because the silence of the room was getting much too awkward for him, Regulus suggested that they watch David Attenborough on the TV above the fireplace. Hill readily agreed but it turned out that David Attenborough wasn’t on. Instead they ended up watching something called ‘Pokemon’.

Regulus didn’t really understand it, and he was certain that he would have seen it mentioned somewhere if creatures such as the ‘pikachu’ and the ‘squirtle’ really existed, but he wasn’t an expert on zoology. The ‘pokemon’ seemed like they had to be magical creatures.

“Are they real?” Regulus asked in awe as the pikachu started emitting lightning. He heard the door open and close, vaguely registering that it was Waters who had entered the room.

“Are what real?” Asked Hill.

“The pokemon.” Regulus said, his eyes practically glued to the screen.

Hill looked at him sadly “Sorry Regulus,” she said “but they’re n-“

“They’re real.” Waters said. There was a thump and Regulus turned around to see her place two plastic bags onto the kitchen counter. She started taking out the contents of the bags and placing them in the fridge and cupboards, leaving the bread out on one of the counters, next to the microwave.

“Really?” Regulus asked.

“Yes.” said Waters, leaning against the kitchen counter to regard him with a serious look. Regulus realised that she was wearing black-tinted glasses (‘sunglasses’, Sirius had informed him once, telling him that muggles weren’t as thick as they looked and had thought of a way to block the sun from their eyes without magic), a beige trench coat, and a fedora.

“I’ve seen them,” she continued “In Japan. Maybe the boundary between non-magic people and wizards isn’t so harsh there? Because all the Japanese children have pokemon. That show you’re watching is a documentary.”

“How extraordinary.” He commented, turning back to the TV with shining eyes. Maybe he’d visit Japan one day, if he lived long enough. The odds seemed to be getting higher that he would live in any case.

“Elain, you’ve never even been to Japan.” Regulus heard Hill whisper.

“It was my brother that saw the pokemon. He sent pictures.”

“You don’t have a brother.”

“Secret brother. Lives in the attic. Goes crazy every other night and eats all the cheerios.”

“Elain, I know it’s you. You don’t have to lie about this. Sometimes I see you eat the cheerios during the night.”

“You are mistaken. That wasn’t me, it was my twin brother.”

“Sure, Elain, _sure_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is very exposition-y, but the humour makes up for it
> 
> You can talk to me on tumblr over here: https://achairwithapandaonit.tumblr.com/


	8. Chapter 8

Regulus finally felt like things were going right for him when his right arm began to ache on Sunday morning, signalling that the Dark Lord was summoning his followers. Usually, this would be a bad thing, but today Regulus couldn't have wished for anything better.

Because if all the Death Eaters were being summoned then it meant that Bellatrix was being summoned too. And Bellatrix wouldn't miss a meeting with her Dark Lord for anything.

This, of course, meant that she would be unlikely to be in the area at their time of departure. It didn't mean that Regulus wouldn't be using the disillusionment charm though, just that he'd feel slightly more safe leaving the apartment.

The meeting would probably make Bellatrix impatient, and Regulus was sure she would break in afterwards. This meant that it would probably be best to stay in a hotel or inn for a while before returning to the apartment.

If they played this right she would believe that they had moved somewhere while she was at the Death Eater meeting.

Regulus carefully wrapped the horcrux in one of the shirts that he’d found in the wardrobe. He was disgusted with himself for allowing skin contact with it to become a regular thing.

The dim gold glinted sinisterly as it was covered over by the shirt. Regulus allowed a sigh of relief once he could no longer see the thing. He got up from the armchair, placing the horcrux on the coffee table, and made his way over to the kitchen sink.

The water ran over his hands in a very satisfying way. It wasn’t exactly like seeing dirt washing off of his hands as there was no physical dirt to wash away, but it was nice in a metaphorical sense.

He would prefer to perform a purification ritual but he had neither the ingredients nor the time for such a thing. It was somewhat surprising that he knew a purification ritual, as the Blacks _were_ known for their dark magic. But their mother had made sure to teach him and Sirius the ritual ‘just in case’. What she meant by ‘just in case’ Regulus still wasn’t sure of, but it would come in handy eventually.

The next thing on his list of things to do was take down all the protective charms on the apartment. This was relatively easy, much easier than putting them up. He did, however, leave a few of them up. He decided that he would take them down on his way out of the house.

After Regulus had had done this he opened all the cupboards and the fridge and sent the food inside of them flying over to the table tops, before sealing all the items in various transfigured containers. He made sure to cast the proper spells to keep the food from going off and then he shrank all the containers down to the size of a galleon.

The only other thing he had to worry about was the clothing in the wardrobe. That was easily sorted with a packing spell, which made the clothes pack themselves away into a metal tray he had found in the kitchen cupboards and then enlarged. Afterwards he sealed another metal tray over the top with magic and then shrank everything. He made sure to make the bed, so it looked unslept in, and then he left the room with the makeshift suitcase in hand.

He put it with all the food containers and then crossed the room to sit on the sofa. After deciding that he should probably learn how to cook if he was going to live by himself after all of this was over Regulus turned the TV onto the cooking channel and settled back to wait. Three hours to go.

* * *

 

“I spy with my little eye, something beginning with ‘T’.” said Hill.

“Would it perhaps be tree?” Regulus asked as he watched the building across from where they were parked. Twelve Grimmauld place looked just as uninviting as always.

“Yep!” the woman chirped “It’s your turn now.”

“Hmm,” Regulus hummed. Kreacher chose that moment to come out of the house with a non-magical broomstick, doxies following behind him in a menacing buzz.

“Kreacher!” He gasped, undoing his seatbelt and opening the car door. He jumped out of the car, ignoring the muggles’ calls after him and ran across the road, narrowly avoiding a car as it sped by.

“You are no match for Kreacher!” Kreacher muttered darkly, whacking at the doxies with the broomstick perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Regulus stopped short, hand on the gate, realising that Kreacher wasn’t actually in any trouble. The old elf even seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Oh.” Regulus breathed out. His fingers curled uncertainly around the cold metal of the gate.

Kreacher looked fine, he looked well. There was something different about him though – something angrier, something more damaged. Regulus’ supposed death must have taken its toll then.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching Kreacher whack at the doxies, but eventually he felt a hand on his arm. He looked over and saw Hill.

“Is it here? Your home?” she asked quietly, softly.

Regulus nodded wordlessly.

“I…well…” he frowned and then gestured over to Kreacher “That’s Kreacher, he’s my house elf.” He said, just as quiet as Hill.

Hill looked over in Kreacher’s direction. Her eyes didn’t seek him out the same as Regulus’ always had. She couldn’t see him, she wasn’t keyed into the wards. She couldn’t even see the house.

To her it likely looked as if he had his hand on the partition between the fences around the houses on either side of 12 Grimmauld place.

Finally giving her search for Kreacher up as a lost cause, Hill turned to him.

“There’s nothing there Regulus.” She said. She looked nervous and sad, as if she was pitying him. She _was_ pitying him, Regulus realised. He bristled slightly.

“I’m _not_ seeing things.” He scowled. Hill grimaced.

“I’m not saying that you are.” She said placatingly.

Regulus bit at his lip and turned back to look at Kreacher, feeling his eyes begin to sting. He gripped harder at the gate.

Kreacher was getting very aggressive with his doxie extermination. It hurt to see that. Kreacher had never been a normal house elf, had never been nice, and, because of that, he’d always gotten aggressive when it came to things like this. But the way he was attacking them wasn’t normal for him, it wasn’t the same kind of anger.

Kreacher was grieving and he was using his anger as an outlet.

Regulus hated seeing him like this. He wanted to open the gate and hug Kreacher and let him know that everything was okay, that he wasn’t dead.

But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t even have exited the car.

If his parents saw him…

“Look,” Hill’s voice was stifling against the silence “I’m just saying that you’ve been through a- a _huge_ ordeal.” She stuttered a bit on her sentence, probably because she knew how unwelcome it was.

“A-and, well, Elain said you weren’t very well the other night.”

Regulus’ hand clenched even harder into the gate. The metal bit into him harshly.

“You’ve been talking about me.” He commented, much more calmly than he felt. He was angry. He was feeling that a lot lately.

“She said you wouldn’t stop screaming, that you were acting mad.” Hill sounded distressed. She sounded pitying and guilty and sad “I’m sorry Regulus, I really am, but there’s nothing there.”

Green light spilled from the window. Once. Then twice.

They had flooed out then.

Regulus swung the gate open and stepped into the garden.

“Kreacher!” Regulus called. It was much quieter than he had intended. Despite this, Kreacher’s head rose slowly. He turned to look at Regulus from his crouched position on top of one of the doxies.

“Master Regulus?” Kreacher croaked out. He looked surprised, as if he couldn’t believe that it was Regulus standing there in front of him.

“Yes, it’s, um, it’s me.” Regulus said. His eyes were still stinging, and he could feel that he was probably going to end up crying. He had done a lot of that lately.

Kreacher’s form trembled. He didn’t move. The broomstick fell from his limp hand, squashing an unlucky doxy underneath it.

Regulus bit at his lip, breathed in deeply.

“I-it’s me, Kreacher.” He said.

Behind him he vaguely registered the sound of Hill running towards the car. She was probably worried by the fact that he had seemingly disappeared.

“Master Regulus!” Kreacher wailed. And then he stood and barrelled into Regulus. Regulus let out a grunt and fell to his knees, letting the distraught house elf cling to his middle with his bony arms.

“It’s me.” He whispered, bringing his arms around Kreacher in a hug. He sniffled slightly, feeling the tears fall from his eyes. It was distinctly pathetic – pureblood heirs weren’t supposed to cry in front of their house elves, and they definitely weren’t supposed to hug them.

But Kreacher wasn’t just any house elf. Kreacher was Kreacher, and Kreacher had always been a better mother and father than his actual mother and father had.

Regulus hadn’t realised quite how much he cared for Kreacher until he had thoughtlessly sent him on that mission for the Dark Lord.

“Kreacher didn’t want to leave Master Regulus!” Kreacher cried, his skeletal fingers digging into Regulus’ ribs almost painfully “Kreacher is so glad that Master Regulus is alive!”

“I-it’s alright Kreacher,” Regulus soothed in a wobbly voice “I sent you off. This was all _my_ fault.”

“No! It was Kreacher’s fault! Kreacher is not being a good elf!” Kreacher wailed.

“ _You are!_ You’re a perfect elf! The _best_ elf!”

This went on for quite some time. Eventually Regulus grew tired of it and ordered Kreacher to not talk about himself in such away. But this, of course, made him feel bad – because Kreacher deserved his free will – so he took back the order. They argued for a few more minutes before Kreacher decided to put an end for it and dragged Regulus inside with a promise of hot chocolate.

“You can’t tell mother and father.” Regulus said as he sipped at his hot chocolate.

“Kreacher will not.” Kreacher replied. He also had a mug of hot chocolate, at Regulus’ insistence, though he didn’t look particularly pleased about it.

“Thank you.” Regulus said, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

“Kreacher’s loyalty is to Master Regulus first.” Kreacher said smugly “Master Regulus is Kreacher’s favourite – nothing like ungrateful Master Sirius.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Laughed Regulus “Sirius is annoying.”

* * *

 

Regulus brushed his fingers along the bookcase, scanning the titles to see if there was anything that sounded like it could have something to do with horcruxes.

There were a lot of books that admittedly looked dark, mainly because they had the word ‘dark’ in the title, and Regulus wasn’t really sure where to begin. Maybe it would be best to just take all of the books, or at least all of the books that looked to be about dark magic.

Regulus pulled _‘A Guide for Dark Witches: Embrace the Monster Within’_ from its shelf, wondering if his mother had ever read it.

She probably had.

Then again…Regulus turned the book to look at the blurb. The book seemed to be about blood magic and sacrifices. There was something about cannibalism in the blurb.

Regulus’ mother wasn’t nice, but he was fairly certain she’d never eaten anyone.

He hoped she hadn’t, at least.

She could well have.

Regulus shook his head and put the book back. This disturbing train of thought wasn’t helping in the least – he needed to be quick, he only had a couple of hours before his parents would be back.

Regulus turned his head up to look at the shelves disappearing into the high vaulted ceiling. That was a lot of books. Regulus would never be able to look through them all. He sighed and pulled his wand from its holster.

He supposed he would have to steal the whole library then.

Well, not really _steal_ as such, Regulus wasn’t a criminal. Well, he _was_ actually – he was a Death Eater. But he was an ex-Death Eater _really_ so that didn’t count.

He would just borrow the books…for an indefinite amount of time. And was it really stealing when he was the Black heir?

Regulus frowned then. Why draw the line at stealing? He’d already stolen the locket anyway, he could steal.

Fine, Regulus was going to steal all the books and he probably wouldn’t be giving them back. It served his mother and father right.

Regulus sighed and walked over to the table in the middle of the room. He sat on the edge of it and crossed his arms.

“Diffindo.” He said, flicking his wand to the top of one of the bookshelves and drawing his hand down to trace around it. Dust filled the air as the overly large bookshelf was cut from the wall. Regulus frowned, feeling the tiny particles land in his hair.

Nevertheless, he persisted.

Soon enough (well, not soon enough, if Regulus was being honest. There was no quick way to cut a bookcase out of a wall it was built into) the bookcase detached and came crashing down.

“Protego!” Regulus squeaked, quickly raising his wand to defend himself from the falling bookshelf.

There was a steady rain of books hitting his protective barrier for a few seconds. And then something big crashed into it – the bookcase. Regulus’ barrier strained under the weight of it, threatening to shatter.

His arms shook with the effort of maintaining the barrier, wand pointing upwards.

There was a tremendous cracking noise and Regulus turned his head towards it.

The thing about the Black library was that the bookcases reached the ceiling, and the ceiling was very high up. The width of the room was probably half the size of the height.

The bookcase was much too big for the room and had ended up smashing into and through the wall opposite it as it came down. There were wood splinters everywhere and he could see into the room beyond – his father’s study.

“Oh shit.” Regulus muttered, stunned by the sheer level of destruction he had managed to cause. His wand arm dropped at the shock of it.

This was even worse than anything Sirius had ever done.

An ominous creaking sound came from above him. The barrier shattered. The bookshelf fell.

 “Shit!” Regulus yelled, falling off of the table and onto the floor. Hopefully the table would be able to hold the weight of the bookshelf and would create a small triangular gap for him to sit in, unharmed.

His luck seemed to have run out. The table cracked and splintered under the weight, just as his protective charm had, and it really did nothing to hold up the bookshelf.

Regulus soon found himself flattened against the floor with a heavy bookshelf lying on top of himself.

“Fuck.” He groaned, closing his eyes and hitting the floor with his forehead.

He’d really screwed up this time.

After a while the weight left his back. Regulus sighed and rose up onto his forearms.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“What does Master Regulus need the bookshelf for?” Kreacher asked, levitating the bookshelf back to its previous position on the wall.

Regulus groaned and sat up, rubbing at his shoulder blades. They were really aching. There was probably an awful bruise there.

“I just need a book, and I don’t have enough time to check every book. I was going to cut the bookshelves away and shrink them.”

Kreacher scowled.

“Kreacher can do that for Master Regulus.” He chided “Master Regulus should go downstairs and sit by the fire, where he won't get hurt.”

Regulus nodded at Kreacher sadly, feeling bad for the amount of damage Kreacher was now going to have to clean up. The elf would probably do a better job at it than him, at least.

He got up from the floor, feeling his legs protest at the movement, and moved towards the door. Nothing _seemed_ broken, and that was a plus.

Regulus closed the door behind himself and leaned against it with a sigh, closing his eyes. He breathed in deeply.

Hill was probably worrying outside. The pang of guilt was quickly squashed down though. Hill had thought he was mad, insane. She’d thought that he’d been seeing things.

It felt strange, being angry with Hill. The woman was sweet and nice, and she was always understanding. But they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks; Regulus had met her thirteen days ago.

He’d _lured_ himself into some false sense of friendship with Hill, with the entire team of muggles. He’d _forgiven_ her, and everyone, for subduing him the other day.

It was weak of him, pathetic really, that he’d allowed this to happen. He’d unconsciously jumped at the first sign of niceness and gotten himself stuck with a bunch of people that didn’t understand him or his people.

A bunch of people that talked about him behind his back and thought him a lunatic.

A part of him tried to argue that they all seemed like nice people on the inside, that they were just concerned for him.

But they’d only known each other for two weeks, and that was hardly a basis for friendship.

Regulus scowled and pushed himself off of the door. The only person that had ever understood him was Kreacher. Kreacher always knew what to do, how to make him feel better.

Kreacher hadn’t even mentioned the fact that he was wearing muggle clothing, though he knew Kreacher wasn’t entirely happy with it.

Sirius probably would have mentioned it. He would have probably made fun of him for it too. Not because he thought muggles were dirty, but because the idea of Regulus Arcturus Black wearing muggle clothing would be hilarious to him.

He was annoying and childish and Regulus wanted to…Regulus wanted to see him.

He sighed. There was no point.

It would be best to go downstairs and sit in front of the fire like Kreacher had suggested.

But then Regulus’ eyes strayed to the door next to the one that opened into the library.

His father’s study.

He shouldn’t go in there, he knew it. They were never allowed in there as children. Their father hadn’t liked noise, he hadn’t liked children.

Regulus bit his lip, his hand drifted to the door knob.

Father wasn’t there to tell him off. He could go in there. There might have been some information that could help him.

The knob was cold underneath his fingertips, cold and unforgiving like his father. Just turn it, he told himself, turn it and find out.

He turned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus is an idiot like always. I guess it was getting too chummy for him?? Anyway, this was originally gonna be one chapter but I'm splitting it into two because it was getting quite long.
> 
> Kreacher's actually really hard to write, but I feel like I got his characterisation better towards the end of the chapter.
> 
> Also, I actually looked up action scene tips when I was writing about the bookshelf but it didn't help at all because the people writing these tips probably weren't expecting an action scene that involved being squished by a giant bookshelf.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates these past couple of weeks. I was very ill last week and too busy the week before. This chapter has been in progress for so long now haha, it's nice to finally be finished with it.

His father’s study looked like any other old study. There were bookshelves lining the left and right-hand walls; a window looking out into the courtyard on the far wall; a desk in front of the window, two leather armchairs in front of it.

It was hardly the place of secrets he had been imagining all these years.

The room was a mess, likely because of the bookshelf crashing through the wall. There was no sign of the bookshelf anymore, no hole in the wall. Kreacher’s magic had already cleared it all up.

There were books strewn across the floor though – some had obviously come from the bookshelf in the library, some from the bookshelves on the right side of the room.

Regulus stumbled uncertainly across the room, unwilling to step on the books.

There was a thick layer of dust across just about every surface, though it’d been unsettled in some places and was mostly floating in the air now. Regulus coughed sharply as some of it got stuck in his throat.

Stepping around the desk, Regulus fingered at the latch on the window and lifted it. At just a push of his hand, cold air flooded the room.

Regulus found that he didn’t mind the cold so much in these circumstances. It was much better than breathing in the dusty air. He looked out of the window, down into the courtyard, and smiled.

Sirius and he had always used to play games down there – hiding clumsily behind bushes, pushing each other over into the fountain. Their favourite game had been aurors and blood traitors.

His brow furrowed at the thought though. It had been fun and he’d been happy, but now he understood that that kind of thinking wasn’t quite right. His mother had taught them that blood traitors were just as bad as criminals and they’d just listened and nodded along as kids were wont to do.

Regulus turned from the window with a heavy heart. He didn’t have time to linger on this.

He flicked his wand and sent as many books as he could into the empty bookshelf. The rest of them were stacked in front of it.

The organisation made the room a lot easier to deal with.

He tapped his fingers on the table in thought. It was littered with pieces of paper and odd trinkets. An ornate cup filled with quills inside caught his eye. Regulus picked the cup up and looked at them. They were all beautiful – the feathers glimmering and unique.

He couldn’t see the jobberknoll quill.

Regulus pulled one of the quills from the cup. The feather on the end was a bright pink, it was long and curled, the different strands ending with tiny blue bulbs. It reminded Regulus of a fuchsia flower.

The feather was actually the tail of a fwooper, Regulus realised. He felt a little bit sick at the thought.

It was fine to put a feather on the end of a quill because feathers naturally fell off of birds. But this was the tail of a bird – this didn’t ‘naturally fall off’. It could have just been chance; maybe the fwooper had gotten into a fight with some other beast and the maker of the quill had just happened to come across it’s lost tail and decided it would look beautiful on the end of a quill.

At this point though, Regulus wouldn’t rule off animal cruelty as a part time hobby of his parents.

He put the quill back into the cup and set it onto the cluttered table. He coughed again at all the dust. The window had certainly helped, but there was only so much that could be done for the room.

Regulus wondered how exactly his father managed to work all day in this room when he couldn’t even manage five minutes.

He stopped. His father couldn’t have been in here recently if the room was in such a state. His father was many things, but he wasn’t a messy person.

That meant his father hadn’t been in his study for a very long time. Regulus remembered that he’d still been frequenting the room during the Christmas holidays, but he must have stopped coming in there at some point close to then for the room to already be in this state.

Regulus’ fingers stuttered as he reached for a piece of paper.

It couldn’t be!

But it must have been…Regulus drew his hand from the paper and brought it to scrub at his suddenly wet eyes, a happy chuckle bubbling from his throat.

So his parents _had_ cared after all.

He supposed he could have just come at any time if they were so affected by his absence. Maybe he could even wait for them to come home – tell them that he was alright, that they had no reason to worry.

Regulus felt his smile widen.

He brought his hand back down to the piece of paper, feeling almost embarrassed at the amount of happiness he felt at this revelation, and turned it.

_‘Dear Walburga,_

_My condolences to your loss. I know that you must be feeling quite overwhelmed for such a sudden thing to happen right after the loss of your heir. I’ve heard that it was quite bloody._

_No matter though, this kind of thing is quite usual in Black households. Why, just a few years back – well, you know what happened to grandfather. That’s just how dark magic is, I’m afraid. For all it’s benefits there are some drawbacks._

_You must see that he was quite privileged to go in such a way though? It is the death that every Black dreams of._

_To go in a whirlwind of dark magic and insanity. He must have felt l-‘_

Regulus was beginning to realise that this condolence letter was not about him. He looked at the date at the top of the letter – 30th of December 1979 – and frowned.

By all rights this letter should have been about him. It was dated just a week after his death.

But Regulus’ supposed death, while it did have something to do with dark magic and he _had_ felt quite insane in the moment, had not been a way that people in his family dreamed to die.

Bellatrix was strange and probably wanted to die in some gruesome way, but he highly doubted she wanted to be dragged under the water by inferi while attempting to ruin the Dark Lord’s plans. And the person writing this letter wasn’t even Bellatrix – they had different handwriting.

Regulus scanned the letter to see if he could pick out any more information. It seemed, though, that the writer of the letter didn’t have any intention of being straight forward.

So Regulus put the letter back on the table. So he picked another piece of paper up from it. So he looked at the bold letters that read ‘Certificate of Death’ and the name in small font, further down the piece of paper.

_‘Orion Black’_

Regulus’ hands shook. He _couldn’t_ be dead.

His father wasn’t the kind of person who would die like that. The letter had been written on the 30th. There was no way that his father could die in just a week. Just like that.

But he had. That one tiny, insignificant, piece of paper – even smaller than your average book, so _insignificant_ – said so.

Regulus laughed. He didn’t know what else to do.

He let the steady stream of laughter escape his lips and shakily sat himself down against the wall, paper clenched in his hands. He probably looked manic – just a bit callous. His father was dead and he was _laughing_ about it.

The laughter wasn’t completely meaningless, he reasoned. It was a little bit funny to contemplate the fact that his father, who had always seemed like an indestructible force, was dead.

His vision blurred and for a second Regulus contemplated the idea that he might need glasses. But he didn’t need glasses. He was just crying.

And it wasn’t even sad, wasn’t even painful, it was just funny. Hilarious – Amusing – Daft – Preposterous! Regulus almost wished he had a dictionary on himself so that he could list every single word that meant funny.

His laughter soon turned to something else though. He soon felt it turn painful. He soon heard it turn to a sob.

He choked on it and unclenched his fingers from the tiny slip of paper.

Regulus tried to argue against the pain, argue his tears away, tried to tell himself that this shouldn’t matter to him at all because his father never cared about him. But it just didn’t seem to work like that.

He was his father. A terrible father, certainly, but still his father.

Regulus didn’t know how long he sat there, crying over what seemed like spilt milk, but it felt like an awfully long time. Eventually, he got up, dried his cheeks, and took his wand from his holster. He was here for a reason. He’d already wasted enough time.

He felt numb and just a bit sickened as he pointed his wand at the bookshelves and shrank the books, but there was nothing to be done about it. He could cry about it later, when he wasn’t in danger of his mother bursting in to find him.

 He put the shrunken books in his coat pocket, doing it up with the strangely useful mechanism that Tibbers had called a zip.

It was just a whim that made him open the drawers. And it was just a whim that made him take the contents of them. Stacks of paper, battered journals, and one untitled book were unloaded from their drawers and into his pockets.

This made him feel even more sick. But still, he took them.

He wasn’t sure why he took them, what drew him to them, but the fact was that he took them. Maybe it was because they were his father’s and he wasn’t quite coping with the man’s death yet, or maybe it was just that it was information and information was exactly what Regulus needed at that moment.

His thoughts lingered on the idea of reading through the journals – of trying to understand the thought process of someone so distant.

Trying to understand just how he died.

Regulus swallowed and turned around to pull the window shut. The clink of the metal latch was loud in the silent room and left him feeling lost.

He very nearly ended up running from the room and the guilty, suffocating feeling that had flooded through it. The only thing that stopped his hasty departure was the fact that he was Regulus Black, and Regulus Black simply did not rush from rooms in a disturbed manner. He left those kind of departures to Sirius, as everything about Sirius was disturbed.

Regulus resolutely ignored the voice in his head that was attempting to remind him that he had, in fact, been rushing around in a disturbed manner ever since he was released from the hospital.

So Regulus calmly walked around the desk and across the room. He opened the door, stepped outside and-

“Regulus?”

Regulus startled, his heart beating wildly. He turned his head; looked down the stairs; stared.

And stared some more.

The woman at the bottom of the staircase was pale, eyes wide, hands clenched tightly around the coat she was holding.

Regulus stared.

He was panicking – he knew that. And he needed to do something soon, very very soon. He needed to do something before everything went wrong.

He breathed in deeply, then out, then in again. Regulus closed his eyes for a second and then opened them.

“Mother,” Regulus said, with much more control in his voice than he was feeling. He pasted a smile on his face – small, slight, the kind of smiles that his parents expected from him “you’re back early.”

He felt for the doorknob behind his back, clutching at it with his fingers and pulling the door shut. It clicked loudly.

He hoped to Merlin that his mother wouldn’t question it. She was still gaping at him like a fish so Regulus decided that the odds were probably in his favour.

And then a smile crept up the woman’s face. It was sickly and wrong; Regulus hated it; Regulus didn’t understand it.

The coat dropped from her hands with a heavy thump.

“You came back!” Walburga exclaimed.

And it was so weird, so strange. Walburga Black didn’t smile – she didn’t exclaim things with joy, she didn’t allow anyone to see her in a shocked state, and she certainly didn’t smile.

Regulus had no idea how to react to that. He eyed her in distrust, faked smile falling from his face.

“Y-yes.” He said “I came back.”

To his surprise – and utmost terror – she stepped forward.

Regulus stepped back. She wasn’t very close; she was all the way down the stairs. But Regulus was very uncomfortable with all of this.

“You’re a good son, aren’t you Regulus. You won’t leave your poor mother alone.”

There were actual literal tears in her eyes. She _actually_ looked happy to see him. Regulus felt his chest ache at the thought.

It couldn’t be possible. There was absolutely no way that she was feeling joy at his return.

But the evidence seemed to point towards that. Walburga shakily put her hand on the railing and advanced up the stairs.

“Of course, I always knew. You’re nothing like Sirius, you’re perfect. My perfect son.”

“It is…true that Sirius is rather a bit less than perf-“ Regulus trailed off as Walburga’s hand came to his cheek. It was soft, softer than he’d ever expected anything about his mother to be. Her ring scraped roughly against his skin.

Regulus felt a wave of anger wash over him.

“I-“ He started, his nose scrunching up. But he couldn’t find the words he needed. He had no idea what to say. Regulus leant his head back, away from her hand, which was starting look a bit too much like an inferius’ hand for him to stomach.

He bit at his lip harshly, not knowing what else to do.

“Stop that!” Walburga snapped. It was a sharp relief, _this_ was the mother that he knew “Biting your lip is a sign of weakness! You shouldn’t allow others to see such a thing!”

“And losing your composure over my return _isn’t_ a sign of weakness?”

Walburga’s eyes widened, mouth gaping open in shock.

Regulus cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. This was the kind of thing that Sirius did – baiting their mother – arguing back at her. Regulus felt sickness rising in his throat.

“I-I…” he stuttered out, stepping even further back. His eyes flittered over her in terror.

“Sorry!” he squeaked.

And Walburga just stared at him. She blinked a couple of times, mouth twitching as she attempted to work out what to say.

Regulus looked away, down at his feet. His panicked mind started picking out all of the details of the wooden flooring – all the scrapes and gouges and burns that Sirius had caused over the years.

Well…not just Sirius, he supposed. He distinctly remembered an incident with a boiling cauldron and a doxie.

He heard Walburga release a breath.

“You’re growing up, I suppose.” She said quietly, in a deadly voice. It was so quiet that Regulus could barely hear her. And then “Look at me.”

Regulus stared down at the floor just a bit harder.

Bony hands came to grasp at his head, forcing it up. The months spent in the hospital had done nothing for his height and Regulus still only came up to her chin. It was even more intimidating than he had found Waters to be when they had first met.

Her eyes were cold, as they always were. Cold and dead. Regulus felt a shiver run down his spine, like an inferius digging its fingers into his back.

“Don’t be Sirius.” Regulus jumped at the words, remembering saying the exact same thing to Hill just over a week ago.

“Sirius is an idiot and is going to get himself killed. _You_ , Regulus, are not an idiot. I am your mother and you will not speak to me in such a way.” Her thumb twitched slightly where it was pressed against his cheek, brow furrowing “Be that as it may…such words are befitting of a Black. They confuse and anger the enemy, make them vulnerable.

“You’re overstepping a fine line, Regulus, I can tell that much. I know not how fine that line is – perhaps it is finer than the line that Sirius oversteps, perhaps not – but I do know that it isn’t something I approve of.”

His face was released from her hands. Regulus stumbled back, expecting something but no knowing what. He breathed heavily, waiting for her to do something.

But Walburga just walked past him and down the hall. Regulus stared after her.

“I’ll burn your name off of the tapestry, of course. But do come to visit your poor old mother once you have stopped with this incessant childishness. Merlin knows we don’t need another Sirius.”

Regulus blinked after her, watching as she opened the library door, Kreacher running around her legs in excitement.

“Master Regulus!” He cheered, pressing a shoulder bag into Regulus’ arms “Kreacher has the books!”

Walburga caught his eye and levelled him with an unimpressed look. Regulus swallowed.

“Th-thank you, Kreacher.” He stuttered. Kreacher preened, puffing up his chest proudly.

“Kreacher lives to serve.” The house elf boasted. Despite himself Regulus felt a smile reach his face at Kreacher’s antics.

* * *

 

Regulus pulled the car door open and slid inside, closing the door behind him. He put the shoulder back down on the floor and turned to look at his house.

His mother was looking down at him from one of the windows. She was quite far away but Regulus felt sure that she was raising an eyebrow. He shrugged his shoulders in response. All of the curtains in the house swung across to cover the windows.

“Er…Regulus?” Regulus turned from the house to look at Hill, who had uttered the timid question.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Sorry!” she burst out. She looked worried, like she had committed a crime. Regulus blinked.

“What about?”

It was Hill’s turn to blink.

“About…earlier?” she said slowly, frowning at him.

“Oh.” Regulus exclaimed and then turned back to the window. He wasn’t happy with her earlier assumptions and often had trouble forgiving others, but he had completely forgotten about their argument in the wake of everything that had just happened.

He supposed if his mother could refrain from murdering him for getting into a muggle contraption then he could forgive Hill for her earlier words.

“It’s fine.” He muttered “I over-reacted, I guess. Sorry.”

Regulus looked to the side, watched as a relieved smile took over Hill’s face. She breathed out deeply and beamed at him.

“I’m the one that should be sorry.” She said. And then there were warm arms around him.

Regulus flinched and flattened himself against the window.

“ _What the fuck was that!_ ” he yelped.

Hill eyed him for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Hold was quick to join her. Even Waters had a few snickers to spare.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a fucking hug, you dumbass?” came Tibbers mocking call from the front of the car.

Regulus silently fumed all the way to the hotel that they had decided to stay at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus sasses Walburga Black.  
> Instant regret.
> 
> But also, I've decided I love Walburga Black now. She was originally gonna be a complete bitch but I guess she's just 50% a bitch now. Regulus is 30% bitch and Sirius has the other 20%. When together they complete the percentage and become the epitome of bitchiness.
> 
> You can come visit me on tumblr over here: https://achairwithapandaonit.tumblr.com/


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest chapter yet! I'm very happy with this one actually, and it's nice to finally be able to put something in about the connection between Tibbers and Hold. They've known each other for a very long time haha.

The night was quiet, the traffic having dwindled down so much that he hadn’t seen a single car in the last ten minutes. As the hours had went down so had the temperature, and Regulus had been forced to throw a coat on over his pyjamas when he’d finally given up on sleep. He shivered at the cold air and pulled his coat even tighter around himself.

There was something beautiful about seeing London from so high up – something nice. Lights glittered and blinked. On, off, mostly off. He watched as darkness flooded yet another window – the person inside probably deciding to get some sleep. Regulus supposed that was something he should do.

He didn’t want to though – couldn’t, in fact. He was fine where he was.

Regulus crossed his arms over the brickwork that marked out the edge of the building and peered down at the dimly lit streets. A man stumbled along. He was obviously drunk. Regulus could tell that much, even from five stories up.

He scrunched his nose up. It was uncouth.

Muggles were just like that though. Their views and his views on acceptable behaviour seemed to be wildly different.

And that wasn’t bad. Not necessarily.

Different and bad weren’t the same thing. The dictionary’s definition on the word bad was ‘a poor quality or a low standard’. It’s definition for the word different was, well, different – ‘not the same as another or each other; unlike in nature, form, or quality’.

And humans never seemed to understand that distinction. To most people the word different was a synonym to bad.

His mother was one of those people. To her, because Regulus was acting differently from how she had ever seen him act, he was bad. It was why she had said that she would burn his name off of the tapestry.

But she was desperate and lonely, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

And because of that desperation she didn’t want to let go of him. To her he was the lesser of two evils; the ideal son shaped into something less than that. She would rather a traitorous son than a dead one, despite her misgivings.

She had unsettled him. He had to admit that.

It was completely disturbing to see her displaying any form of physical affection; to see her acting so differently from normal. In this situation different really did mean bad.

He understood that she must have been shocked, must have been grieving, but he hoped to Merlin that she never touched him again.

The road suddenly lit up, two spots of light streaming across it. Regulus watched as a bright, white car came into view. The windows were open and a heavy beat resounded from within – a mockery of music. The car was definitely going too fast.

Regulus’ focus on the car was disturbed by a tapping sound from behind him. Someone was climbing the stairs to the roof. He turned around and stared at the door to the stairs. The handle moved down. And then―

There was a loud beep. A sickening crunch. A thud. Terrified swearing.

Regulus turned back around to clutch at the bricks and stared down at the road, hair flying about wildly in the wind.

The white car was stopped at an angle in the middle of the road, crimson painted across the front of it. The drunken man from earlier was lying to the side of it. He looked as if he had been thrown there haphazardly by some ungodly force.

Regulus sucked in a harsh breath.

The loud music played on from the car. It wasn’t right.

“Oh shit...” came Tibbers' rough voice from behind him. Regulus jumped as a hand came down next to his and the familiar ginger hair entered his field of vision.

The people that had been inside the car were now outside of it. One of them was holding something to his ear. The other two were yelling in panic.

“Those steps I heard, from the door, they were you?” Regulus whispered. He couldn't take his eyes away from the chaos down below.

Tibbers frowned at him.

“Who else would it be?” He asked. Regulus bit at his lip.

“A wizard did that.” He said. It came out more frantic than he would have liked, more desperate. And he couldn’t see how anyone else but a wizard could do this – it looked like they may have used an extremely strong locomotion charm.

“It was a car.”

Regulus’ chest felt heavy “That can’t be right. That man was thrown about too roughly. There’s too much damage. He’s _dead_.”

“He isn’t.”

“He is though. Look at him – he’s dead.”

There was a huff of breath; Regulus could practically feel the annoyance rolling off of Tibbers. Regulus wasn’t looking at the man but he was fairly certain he had just rolled his eyes at him.

“How about _you_ look at him, dipshit. Us magicless humans aren’t as fucking fragile as you _think_ we are.”

Regulus scoffed at that. He watched the people fret about the road in a panic, so tiny from the rooftop.

Tibbers breathed out angrily.

“C'mon.” He said. Regulus scowled.

“Come on where?”

He didn't get a reply. Tibbers just grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the rooftop door. Regulus struggled and protested but Tibbers' grip was too strong. In the end, he just had to accept the fact that Tibbers was dragging him around like he was a misbehaving child.

“So?” Regulus asked as Tibbers finally released his arm outside the entrance to the hotel. Tibbers nodded his head in the direction of the bloody soaked car.

“Can you help him?” he said shortly.

Regulus eyed the man in the road with unease.

“He’s dead.”

Tibbers shook his head.

“No, he’s not,” he said “he’s still holding on. Just barely.”

Regulus couldn’t help but wonder just how much Tibbers had seen to be able to say that with so much conviction.

“What is this?” He couldn’t help but ask, his voice strained with uncertainty “Is this a test? Are you trying to prove something?”

He didn’t get a reply. Tibbers’ gaze was almost painful in its intensity.

Regulus bit at his lip. He started forward – one step. He counted to five, and then stepped forward again. And then again. And again. And again.

Soon enough he was standing in front of the drunken man. One of the men from the car had a hand to his throat, was feeling for a pulse.

He had hurt this other man, Regulus realised, even though he didn’t know how. If what Tibbers had said was true then all of the people who were in that car were responsible.

This man didn’t look like a murderer. He was young – the same age as Regulus – and scared-looking. He smelt heavily of alcohol and wore one of the muggle jumpers that zipped up. One ear pierced; baggy jeans; a generic haircut. He was just an ordinary muggle.

“We didn’t mean to do it!” The man yelped, voice slurred “We didn’t know he was there! I swear it!” He fumbled around; scrambled backwards; eyes shining with fear.

He was just an ordinary muggle who’d had too much to drink and made a dreadful mistake.

“It’s alright,” Regulus said “I’m not going to hurt you.”

And it was true that this man, and the two others who’d been in the car with him, was at fault. It was true that he’d hurt a man – possibly even killed him.

But he was young, and young people often made mistakes. It was how they learnt. It was how Regulus learnt.

It didn’t excuse the man from what had just happened – He’d _hurt_ someone after all.  But Regulus knew it wasn’t completely his fault, and he knew that the man wasn’t a monster; hadn’t meant to hurt anyone.

He knelt down and looked at the dying man, covered in his own blood. The dark crimson colour was disturbing, as was the thick coppery smell, and Regulus could tell that it would stick with him for a while. He was thankful that blood was red though, instead of green.

The man’s eyes were closed and he looked so dead, but his chest was moving ever so slightly. He _was_ alive! Just as Tibbers had said.

Regulus slid his wand into his hand and out of his holster.

“Episkey.” He said softly, waving the wand over the man’s body. The cuts on his face healed up slowly, knitting together by Regulus’ magic. The spell did nothing for the man’s internal organs, which had likely been damaged when he’d been hit by the car.

The truth of the matter was that there was nothing Regulus could do.

He felt Tibbers’ hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not a healer,” he said quietly “I can’t do anything more.”

“ _Yes_ , you can.” Said Tibbers harshly. The man knelt down beside him. His right hand came around Regulus’ left – his free hand. Regulus watched stiffly as Tibbers guided his hand down to the dying man’s.

The hand was cold under Regulus’, the stutter of a heartbeat almost out of reach.

Regulus felt his breath hitch as the man’s fingers twitched ever so slightly. He was alive, just hanging on.

“You can hold his hand until the ambulance comes.” Tibbers said “Magic isn’t everything.”

“How’s that meant to help him?” Regulus croaked out.

“It just is.”

“ _How?_ ”

Regulus was breathing heavily now, he knew it. He felt an uncomfortable feeling in his chest, like his skin was too tight around him. Tears prickled at his eyes.

“This man might die tonight. He might live, but he’ll probably die. No one wants to die alone, Regulus, so if he does die at least he’ll have a hand to hold.

“And he probably won’t appreciate it if he lives. That’s just how people are – they’re selfish gits. But you have to understand that there’s always _something_ you can do, even if it doesn’t seem like much, even if it’s not magic. We don’t give up Regulus, we’re not allowed to give up.”

Regulus blinked back the tears and held onto the man’s hand. He vaguely registered Tibbers standing up and taking control of the situation, calming down the three drunken men who weren’t really men quite yet.

Eventually a siren broke through the quietness of the night. And eventually a bright yellow van turned up, blue lights flashing at the top of it.

People came out of it – the muggle version of healers, he assumed – and Tibbers helped him up off of the ground, took his hand away from the man’s.

“They’ll hold his hand now.” He said, and Regulus nodded, watching as the yellow van sped away, siren blaring loudly.

Regulus felt his right-hand curl tightly around something. He noted with surprise that it was his wand. He noted with even more surprise that his face was cold and wet. It wasn’t raining.

“Meet me in the lobby in an hour.” Tibbers said. Something about his voice sounded strained.

And so Regulus found himself back in his room at the hotel, hanging his coat on the hook attached to the door. The bottom of it was soaked in blood – from where it had dragged when he’d knelt down to hold the man’s hand – and he’d left red handprints all over it. The coat was black, but the blood was sticky and left obvious dark patches.

Regulus sighed wearily and wiped his hands on his pyjama trousers. The knees and legs were already a deep crimson (so stark and sickly against white) so it wasn’t much of a loss. He realised belatedly that rubbing his bloody hands on his bloody trousers wasn’t really doing much to get rid of the blood, though. He would have to wash his hands.

Red against gold. Regulus felt sorry for whoever was going to be cleaning his room as he turned the doorknob to the bathroom.

The water was cold at first; Regulus felt the freezing chill of that lake digging into his fingers.

He hated how much it still affected him – how all of his dreams were filled with the green light of the cave – the bone-chilling cold – the grabbing hands – rotting bodies – dead eyes. Regulus bit at his lip, feeling his hands shake. A pathetic, whimpering sound escaped his mouth. He breathed in deeply, trying to quench down the suffocating feeling in his chest.

The chill of the water ebbed away, water turning from cold to hot. Regulus could have cried with relief. Red water swirled inside the sink.

 _At least it’s not green_ , Regulus thought and instantly felt a little better.

Because even if he was covered in blood, even if he had left red marks on everything he had touched in the last quarter of an hour, the inferi in the lake had been long dead and no amount of struggling had caused them to bleed. The lake had been bathed in green light, not in red light.

Regulus ran his wet hands over the tap, rubbed at the blood he’d gotten on it until it was gone.

The water washed the blood away.

Regulus let out a shaky laugh, clutched at the sink in sheer relief. There was nothing to be scared about, he told himself, the blood was gone and it wasn’t even green. He turned the tap off and looked in the mirror.

He hadn’t actually taken a proper look in a mirror yet. It startled him a little – to see his hair so long, blackness falling over his face in waves that reached down to his chin.

He’d known, realistically, that his hair had grown. He’d been asleep for months after all. But to actually see it was something else entirely.

He poked at the curls with annoyance. Long hair was Sirius’ thing, and Regulus was most _definitely_ not Sirius.

There was nothing he could do about it at that moment though. Regulus refused to cut it himself and risk a bad haircut. He pulled away from the sink and decided he would just bear with the embarrassment of his hair for a little longer.

The rest of the hour went by easily, if a little too quickly. Regulus changed from his pyjamas to day clothes (which had the fortunate advantage of not being covered in blood), casted a cleaning spell at his coat (he was, however, spectacularly awful at household charms and only managed to make things worse), and wiped down the bathroom door with a wet towel.

By the time he had finished purging the room of blood it was time to go.

Regulus laced up his boots, pulled an annoying muggle jumper around himself (one of the ones with a zip and a hood), and wished his coat wasn’t so bloody.

As soon as he’d opened the door, however, he realised that there was no way he could go into public in such a thing. The muggle jumper was horrendous. It only took two seconds for Regulus to decide to close the door.

He walked around the bed and dug into the shoulder bag that he’d put all of his possessions into (he was hesitant to call them _his_ possessions though. All of it had been bought by the muggles, not him). The hooded jumper had been near to the top of the bag and Regulus had chosen it for that reason.

There were no coats in the bundle of clothing, but Regulus _did_ manage to find a jacket after taking nearly all of the clothes out of the bag. It was obviously muggle, and sadly red (though the red was darker than Gryffindor red and slightly more on the purple spectrum, it was still _red_. He _really_ hoped he never ran into Sirius while wearing it), but it was a lot more suitable than the zip-up jumper.

 _And_ it had buttons. Regulus liked buttons. He wasn’t so keen on zips.

Regulus nodded to himself happily and left the room. The thought of seeing Tibbers again put a damper on his mood, however, and by the time he entered the hotel lobby he had a scowl on his face.

Tibbers took one look at his face, raised an eyebrow, and started for the doors to the hotel. He obviously expected Regulus to follow him. Regulus was annoyed to find himself doing just that.

“What do you even want?” Regulus asked as they moved across the car park towards Hold’s car.

“I was hard on you. I shouldn’t expect so much from a teenager. You can count this as an apology.” Regulus resisted the urge to yell at him. He wasn’t a teenager. He was _eighteen_ so, by the law, he was an adult.

Tibbers went round to the right-hand side of the car and unlocked the door before sliding into the driver’s seat. Regulus took that as an invitation to sit in the front seat next to him.

“I gave up on that man too easily.” Regulus admitted on principal. He slotted the seat belt into its space and tugged on it slightly to make sure it was secure. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be in a car after what had transpired.

He didn’t exactly want to give Tibbers the easy way out like this. The man had made him hold a dying man’s hand just an hour before and that was definitely not something that anyone should have to do.

But it was a lesson he was going to have to learn eventually anyway. He’d been quick to give up on things all of his life. First his parents, then Sirius. Andromeda, Bellatrix, Narcissa. Professor McGonagall.

He had no doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d just talked to the woman. He knew she was in the Order; everyone knew she was in the Order. But Regulus had long given up on the idea that anyone would be willing to help him and so he hadn’t talked to her when he’d begun to have second thoughts on the Dark Lord.

And Regulus still didn’t know if she would have done anything, if she was a trustworthy person. She _was_ loyal to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore wasn’t someone that Regulus wanted to be anywhere near.

Tibbers started the car up. He looked over at Regulus with a frown.

“You didn’t know him. There wasn’t any reason for you to be invested in his survival. It was stupid of me to drag you down there – that man could have died, and you would have been holding his hand. It would have haunted you forever.” He said.

“I’m already haunted anyway.” Regulus huffed, crossing his arms and looking out of the window.

The car started reversing out of the parking space. Tibbers waited until they were on the road before speaking again.

“I don’t understand you, Regulus.” He said tersely, eyes unmoving from the front window “Why are you so willing to let people walk over you? You put up a good front with that prickly attitude, but it _really_ doesn’t take much to get you to lie down and accept things.”

Regulus supposed he had a good point. As soon as his mother had shown signs of anger he had become completely docile. _And_ he’d allowed the four muggles to come with him to his house, even after the realisation that he needed to do this alone.

He’d allowed himself to be manipulated by Hold so _easily_.

Regulus shrugged.

“It was a lesson I needed to learn.” And then he frowned. Because Tibbers had a good point “What was it that made you drag me down there?”

“It was pissing me off how certain you were that it was wizards that had done it. You separate wizards and us into different categories. To you people without magic are weak and harmless. To you we’re incapable of doing harm. We’re fragile, easy to hurt, easy to defeat. It felt like you’d decided that man wasn’t going to survive because he was just a ‘weak muggle’.”

Part of Regulus wanted to tell Tibbers that everything he’d just said was factual. There wasn’t really much that a muggle could do against a wizard. But it was also a fact that Hold, who was a muggle, had repeatedly managed to get the upper hand on him.

“I wanted you to heal that man – to show me proof of the superiority of wizards. And when you couldn’t do anything for him except heal the small cuts on the surface it felt like a victory. Or at least it did until I realised you were crying.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes.

“If you tell _anyone_ …”

Tibbers rolled his eyes “Who am I gonna tell? It’s only you and me in this car. I’m pretty sure we’ve all seen you cry already anyway. For a fighter of immortal wizard nazis you sure do cry a lot.”

“I’m having a bad life.” Regulus snarked.

“I’m not judging.” Tibbers, despite the fact that he always seemed to be judging “Daniel used to cry all the time, I’m used to emo dickfaces.”

Regulus blinked, not sure what part of that sentence confused him the most: the fact that _Hold_ of all people used to cry a lot, or the use of the word emo. He’d already surmised that Hold and Tibbers had known each other for a while, but the concept of Hold crying was so far off.

“You’ve known him for a long time then?” he asked, trying to fill up the silence in the car.

Tibbers looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly offended look on his face – as if to say that he didn’t appreciate Regulus attempting to dig into his past. After a few seconds he shrugged and turned his head back towards the road, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“I met him when I was eight. We’d just moved house and he lived next door.” Tibbers grumbled “He was five years older than me and I _thought_ he was the coolest person I’d ever laid eyes on. I was quickly corrected when I held an actual conversation with him. I ended up punching him in the face.”

Tibbers looked a little smug at that last comment. Regulus supposed he would feel smug too.

“So he’s always been like this then?”

“Yep.”

“But you said he used to cry all the time.”

“The whole punching him in the face thing turned into a bit of a habit. I couldn’t even stand the sight of him. I guess it must have been humiliating to get beaten up by an eight-year-old.”

And Tibbers was definitely swerving around the issue of Hold crying there. Because Regulus had gotten from his earlier comment that Tibbers was used to comforting Hold, not that he was used to causing him distress. There was obviously something that Tibbers was unwilling to say, something that had happened since they were kids.

Regulus could respect that Tibbers wanted to keep whatever it was a secret.

“Can you punch him when we get back to the hotel? I want to see him cry.”

Tibbers was definitely resisting the urge to grin.

“Daniel and I aren’t mortal enemies anymore so no. But you can punch him if you want. He probably deserves it. I doubt he’ll cry though – he’s been punched in the face so many times since we were kids that he’s probably very used to it by now.”

The car suddenly stuttered to a halt.

“We’re here.” Said Tibbers, undoing his seatbelt.

Regulus hurried to do the same. He got out of the car and looked around. They were in another car park, in front of a clothing shop. Most of the shops were closed at this time so it was remarkable that this one wasn’t. Regulus wondered if Tibbers had chosen the shop because it was the only one open or if he’d planned to go there the whole time. He was betting on the first option.

Whatever the case was, Tibbers was quick to make his way inside the store. Regulus was glad that Tibbers’ strides weren’t as long as Hold’s.

It was obvious that Tibbers didn’t know his way around the store. He walked as if he knew the layout by heart but they went round the shop twice before he eventually stopped in front of rack of coats.

“I doubt the blood’s going to come out of your coat easily.” He explained when Regulus looked to him questioningly.

Regulus shrugged and picked up the sleeve of one of the coats. There was fur around the hood and it looked warm, but it was puffy in a way that Regulus didn’t appreciate. He dropped the sleeve in disgust. Tibbers made an impatient sound. Regulus rolled his eyes.

The next coat he looked at was leather and looked like something Sirius would wear. Regulus decided it was a definite no.

In fact, Regulus found that he disliked all of the coats.

“There’s nothing unique about any of them.” Regulus complained.

Tibbers leaned back against the wall with a sigh “Aren’t you meant to be pretending you’re dead? I don’t think unique should be what you’re looking for.”

“Muggles…” Regulus huffed. He ignored the angry look that Tibbers sent him and turned away from the coat rack.

“Where are you going?” Tibbers snapped.

“To find a good coat.” Regulus called back to him. He heard footsteps follow after him. Evidently the momentary peace that he and Tibbers had shared in the car was over and Tibbers was back to watching his every step.

It was almost funny how quickly it took Regulus to find a suitable coat after that.

“That’s a women’s coat.” Tibbers pointed out as Regulus pulled an embroidered coat from the rack.

“My brother once spent an entire month wearing the girls uniform to prove that he was ‘the best bitch in school’. I don’t think it’s going to be a problem. Besides, this looks similar to wizarding fashion. I have about ten coats that look almost exactly like this at home. They all have nicer buttons.”

Regulus poked at one of the buttons. It was plain and black.

Tibbers sighed. It was more amused than annoyed though.

“The embroidery is nice.” He remarked.

Regulus smiled.

“I thought so too.”

“Regulus, please do me a favour and move into one of those really uptight neighbourhoods one day.”

Regulus frowned up at Tibbers “You mean a pureblood neighbourhood? I don’t think those exist. Most purebloods live in big manors in the countryside. Our townhouse is a bit of an exception.”

Tibbers shook his head “No,” he said “a normal-person neighbourhood – without the magic. I don’t know what’s considered the norm for wizards but a lot of our people are against homosexuality and extremely into enforcing gender roles. _You_ could give a homophobe a heart attack.”

“Ah,” Regulus hummed. He could see himself enjoying scandalising bigoted muggles “mother is against homosexuality. It’s quite unusual considering the fact that most purebloods are fine with it as long as an heir is produced. It’s probably because of Sirius – like with the coffee. I don’t think she seriously disagrees with it, just that she complains about it on principle.”

“You know what Regulus? Take as many coats as you want. Destroy the immortal wizard nazi in style.”

Regulus immediately slung the embroidered coat over his arm and brought an arm up to touch a bright yellow coat.

“Imagine his _humiliation_ if he was defeated by someone in Hufflepuff colours!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know what Hufflepuff is but that’s a very nice coat.” Tibbers said, lips twitching upwards in humour.

* * *

 

Tibbers locked the car and put the keys in his pocket.

“Remind me to never go shopping with you again.” He sighed as he stooped down to pick up a bag. Despite the complaint he looked to be in a good mood.

Regulus decided that since he was also in a good mood he would let the comment slide.

“Oh.” Said Tibbers.

“Oh?” asked Regulus.

“My phone’s ringing.” The man said, reaching in his pocket to pull his phone out.

Regulus frowned “I can’t hear anything.”

“It’s on vibrate.”

“Right, well, I’ll just be going…” Regulus pointed in the direction of the hotel. Tibbers nodded and said that he’d take the bag he was holding up when he finished with his phone call. With that said Regulus made his way into the hotel.

The lights in the lobby were dim, likely turned down because it was so late. Or early, Regulus supposed. He was about to step further into the room when he noticed something.

Sat on one of the orange sofas in the corner of the lobby was Hold. The man looked bored out of his mind, fidgeting restlessly as he hunched over his phone. Regulus would have found it humorous if it wasn’t for the worried frown on his face.

Regulus supposed Hold probably needed sleep just about as much as he did.

Steps sounded behind him and a hand came down on his shoulder.

“What are you looking at?” Tibbers asked.

“Hold’s waiting for us.”

Tibbers sighed and shoved Regulus forward before stepping out from behind him.

“I left a note.” He huffed. Hold perked up at the sound of his voice and rose to his feet, turning the phone off and shoving it into his pocket. The worry on his face smoothed over into something else.

“I was just wondering how hard Mary’s slap was going to be when I told her that her son had gotten killed while under my command.” Hold said with a smirk “I’m glad you didn’t get murdered by wizard nazis on your little jaunt.”

Tibbers rolled his eyes. Hold sauntered over to them and rose an eyebrow.

“No injuries?” he asked.

“No injuries.” Tibbers affirmed.

Hold gave them a considering look “There was a car accident outside apparently.” He prompted. He was obviously asking if they knew anything about it; if it had anything to do with the Dark Lord’s supporters.

“We know,” said Tibbers “we saw it from the roof. Just a few drunk kids driving a car when they really shouldn’t have been.” Then he looked down at Regulus with an almost happy expression “I just got a call from the hospital. That man’s gonna be okay.”

Relief flooded Regulus. He found himself smiling.

“That’s good.”

“Now that’s not something you see every day!” Hold sang mockingly “ _Regulus_ is _smiling_.”

Regulus scowled at him.

“Come on you idiot, we’ve got to get these to Regulus’ room and then we can go to sleep.” Tibbers said, herding them towards the elevator.

Regulus immediately clung to the bar inside the small box. He’d only used the elevator once and he wasn’t happy to be using it again.

“So while I’ve been worrying my head off about that dreaded slap you two have been bonding over fashion?” Hold commented as he took one of the bags that Regulus was holding.

“We also had a very philosophical conversation about the different stances that the wizarding and muggle worlds hold on homosexuality and gender stereotypes.” Tibbers said, jabbing at the button to the third floor.

The button lit up and the doors slowly closed.

“Men’s clothing in the muggle world is disgustingly unvaried.” Regulus sniffed.

The lift began its steady climb and his grip on the bar tightened. Hold laughed and leaned back against the wall.

“How about you change that then?” Hold said with an amused quirk of his eyebrow “Become a fashion designer in our world.”

“I would rather die.” Regulus said bluntly.

Tibbers smirked.

“But then Dan would have to tell your mother that you died while under his command. He’s really delicate – I don’t think he could take a slap like that.”

Regulus rather thought that it would be more a cruciatus curse than a slap.

The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened. Regulus was extremely grateful.

He let go of the bar and pushed past Tibbers to get out of the small, stuffy box. Tibbers made an annoyed grunt but didn’t comment on it – which was probably a testament to how much progress they’d made in not hating each other over the last few hours.

Hold led the way to Regulus’ room with a trail of annoying comments and smarmy words.

Regulus was in such a good mood that it almost didn’t piss him off.

The key-word being ‘almost’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus: Muggle standards for male clothing are horrendous!  
> Tibbers: You're now officially my son. Here, take all the coats you want, crush gender stereotypes. I'm proud of you son.
> 
> This is pretty much because I like drawing pretty things and the standard male clothing is pretty boring. I'm planning on doing a proper drawing of Regulus at some point and damn me if he doesn't have an awesome coat with flower embroidery all over it. I headcanon that wizards are a lot more relaxed on things like that and anyway it's stupid for women to get all the pretty clothes, fuck toxic masculinity.
> 
> You can come talk to me on Tumblr over here: https://achairwithapandaonit.tumblr.com/


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken so long to write this but finally it's written and that is so relieving. I've had really awful writers block recently and I think the break I took to get my art exhibition ready was part of the reason because it absolutely destroyed the schedule I had for writing this, but I've also not been feeling amazing about the fic recently. Nevertheless, I'm going to persist. I am still really excited about getting to the other fics I have planned in this series.
> 
> Also, I wrote most of this probably over a month ago and I have no idea how good it is, I just don't have the motivation to read it all through again.

_‘It is an indisputable fact that all wizards have souls. It is disputable, however, that muggles have souls. A theory that I have been contemplating over for many years is that the source of our magic is our souls – a tangled together thread of life that brings empathy and understanding to our hearts._

_Muggles are incapable of such feelings. They are unworthy; arrogant; vain. They kill our kind without thought, merely deciding that our differences equate to inequality._

_And because of their merciless killings it is obvious to me, and so many others, that they do not have souls – they do not have magic.’_

It was obvious that the journal was old. The theorising on souls was wrought with so much anger (and so many references to muggles killing wizards) that it couldn’t have been written recently.

If Regulus hadn’t seen the date on the front cover – _1658_ – it wouldn’t have even made a difference. There was simply nothing else it could be about.

He felt like he had a better grip on his thoughts now. Before, he had taken journals like this to be true – a warning to the future generations. But now that he had actually met muggles and seen for himself that they weren’t all mindless murderers he could say without a doubt that all of this prejudice was born from anger and hurt.

He would imagine that he’d be very angry as well if he ever found himself In that situation.

The difference between him and the author of the journal though was that Regulus had spoken to muggles, and if they ever did start killing wizards his mind wouldn’t be so clouded that he’d mark them all down as evil.

The muggles’ pathetic attempt at exterminating wizard-kind wasn’t the reason he was reading this book, however.

It had been the attention that the writer gave to souls that had drawn him in. Regulus didn’t think it would be very helpful though, he was fairly certain that the theorising scrawled all over the pages was wrong. The idea that muggles had no souls – had no empathy – was utterly ridiculous.

Regulus rather liked the idea of grabbing Hill by the shoulders and shoving her in front of the long-dead wizard, just to say ‘ _here! See? Empathy!_ ’.

It felt strange to think things like that after so long of having thought of muggles as dangerous and stupid. Regulus had to admit that he had changed over the last few weeks. He had started changing the moment he had woken up in that hospital bed and he hadn’t stopped.

He had no idea what he was changing into but he knew without a doubt that it was something better.

A knocking sound jolted him from Regulus thoughts. He looked towards the door as Hill’s voice filtered through the thick wood.

“We're all going out to get breakfast. Would you like to come with us?” Hill sounded hopeful, a little wary. It made sense – though they’d made up in the car it didn’t change the fact that they’d still had that argument.

Regulus could see now, without the anger burning through him, that Hill hadn’t meant to upset him. She was only worried. Something still rubbed him the wrong way about the fact that she’d thought he was seeing things, but it was only understandable. She _was_ a muggle.

And it made sense that she’d be discussing him with Waters. They were dating, and dating usually had the unfortunate side effect of the two in the relationship telling each other everything.

Regulus looked down at the journal. He didn’t need to read it. It was useless.

He could easily put it down onto the useless pile; leave his hotel room; join everyone for breakfast. He could have fun, take a break.

But Regulus was certain that it would all be a bit uncomfortable. He hadn’t properly spoken to Hill in the car – they hadn’t had a proper conversation since their argument.

 “Sorry, I’m busy.” He called out. And it was such a lie.

Hill was silent for a few seconds before she stuttered out a few disappointed syllables. She obviously didn't know what to do with Regulus' blunt refusal, with the awkwardness that was eventually going to have to come to a head between them. He’d be damned if it came to a head today.

Suddenly a loud thump came upon the door. Regulus jumped.

“If you don't come out and eat, I _will_ drag you out of there.” Tibbers shouted.

He found himself rolling his eyes before he could even think about his next action. And there was nothing to do afterwards; he’d already discarded the useless book and made his way to the door; already twisted the knob and pulled it towards himself. Tibbers’ annoyed face scowled at him from the corridor, Hill standing anxiously behind him.

“You couldn't even get through the door.” Regulus muttered, eyes narrowed. Tibbers just grabbed his arm and wrenched him out into the hallway.

Half an hour later Regulus was shoved into a chair inside a café and passed a menu.

“You might want to take a look at the kids’ section.” Hold muttered, looking over his own menu. Regulus scrunched up his nose and glared over at him.

“Maybe _you_ should be looking at the kids’ section.”

Tibbers nodded and leaned over Hold’s shoulder, trailing his finger down the menu.

“It’s right there, sir.” He said.

Regulus’ short-lived moment of happiness shrivelled up and died when Hold smiled at Tibbers and thanked him for his help.

After that they all made their orders. Hold wrote everything down on his phone (and Regulus didn’t really understand how that worked but he wasn’t going to question it) and walked up to the counter, doing a very bad impression of an over-worked mother.

“Honey, come over and help me with these trays!” he called loudly. Before Regulus could ask who, exactly, ‘honey’ was meant to be, Tibbers got up with a long-suffering sigh and walked up to the counter.

Regulus blinked over at them in confusion.

Then he felt fingers on his arm. They weren’t clutching or digging in, just tapping, trying to get his attention. He was aware of all of this and yet he still flinched away violently, feeling sick to his stomach.

It was Hill’s hand, of course. She held it warily away from him and eyed him with concern.

“Are you alright Regulus?” she asked.

“Y-yes. I’m fine.” He stuttered. _It’s just Hill, It’s just Hill,_ he told himself. He bit at his lip nervously, looked back towards Tibbers and Hold, who were bickering at the counter “I-I…they seem close?”

Hill’s eyes followed his line of sight and Regulus wanted to bury his head in his arms. He already knew they were close, there was no reason to bring it up.

“They are, aren’t they.” Hill murmured, a soft smile lighting up her face.

Waters was smiling also. It was surprising to see – he had gotten so used to blank impassiveness. Sure, she had smiled a bit since they had met, but she’d never really, properly smiled. It was always something borne of humour, amusement. Something half-way between a smile and a smirk.

“They remind me of my mum and dad, before…” she trailed off, smile leaving with her words.

Hill’s right arm moved slightly. Regulus could tell without looking that she’d taken hold of Waters’ hand underneath the table. He looked away at the personal moment, not wanting to intrude on it.

The tray hit the table with a bang. Regulus jumped.

Tibbers slid into the seat next to him and took one of the cups of coffee from the tray.

“Praise the coffee God.” He murmured before raising the cup to his lips.

Regulus regarded him with a confused frown but decided it would be best not to question him. He reached over to the tray and took the cup of tea that he had asked for. _At least_ , Regulus decided after taking a sip, _it seemed that muggles could get something right_.

It was halfway through breakfast that Hold’s phone rang. Regulus had realised by now that a phone was a device used for long-range communication (a bit like using the floo, he supposed, but much more convenient) and wasn’t _too_ surprised by the sudden ringing sound that came from the man’s pocket.

“Sir.” Hold acknowledged into the phone. Regulus looked up from his breakfast in surprise. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but Hold _had_ mentioned superiors.

Regulus set his fork down, no longer able to stomach the idea of food.

 _Hold’s superiors are connected to the muggle ministry, right? What if they’d mentioned him to their prime minister?_ Regulus knew that the muggle prime minister was aware of the wizarding word.

_What if he’d told the minister of magic?_

“Oh. Okay.” Hold said. Then he extended his arm across the table, towards Regulus “It’s for you.”

Regulus swallowed. He took the phone and lifted it up to his ear, quickly turning it around at Hill’s whispered ‘you have to hold it the other way’.

“H-hello?” he squeaked out, wrapping his free arm tightly around his middle. The grip just reminded him of the inferi, however, and did nothing to calm his nerves.

Regulus breathed as steadily as he could around the sick, suffocating feeling.

An aged, tinny voice came out of the phone, sounding distinctly Northern. The sound quality was nothing like floo, nowhere near as good.

“You’d be Regulus then?” the man on the other side said.

Regulus nodded before remembering that _this wasn’t the floo_ and stuttering out a harried ‘yes’ into the phone.

The man gave a hearty laugh.

“Quite a nervous one, aren’t you? No worries laddie, no one’s gonna bite you. Well, none of _us_ are. Can’t say the same for your cousin, sounded like a nasty piece of work.”

Regulus wasn’t quite sure what to make of the man. He’d been, admittedly, scared when he’d taken the phone to his ear. Now he was just confused.

This man didn’t sound like a leader; a superior. He sounded like a muggle farmer (and Regulus knew how those kinds of muggles sounded because the Blacks had a holiday home out in the country. The village it was situated near was, much to his mother’s displeasure, filled with muggles).

“Ah, yes, quite.” Regulus said knowingly, though he did not understand the familiarity with which the man was speaking. He also did not appreciate being called ‘laddie’.

“You’ll be happy to hear that your… _situation_ …hasn’t been told to anyone with a higher position than me. Of course, Julie – and she’s such a dear, mind – thought we should take it up with the bigwigs, but I said ‘No, Julie, we mustn’t do that. Them wizard-folk are like aliens, you’ll be lucky to remember this very conversation if we told the prime minister’. All them weird cases never hear the light of day once he’s told, you see.” The man’s voice became slightly quieter, a little less booming, a little more whisper-shouty “ _I think he knows your folk, Regulus, I think it’s a government conspiracy_.”

Regulus could really do nothing more than to frown confusedly and answer “Yes, it is.”.

The man made a loud, excited sound. Regulus was somewhat reminded of Professor Slughorn.

“ _It is?!_ It’s a conspiracy?” He got even louder somehow “HAH! IT’S A GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY, JULIE! TAKE THAT!”

There was a muffled voice, presumably Julie.

“Our little wizard laddie told me, Julie! It’s true! I was right all along! You’ve lost you dreary old hag!”

A quiet, pissed-off ‘you great big sodding git’ sounded through the phone. Julie was evidently unimpressed by the man’s workplace attitude.

The man coughed into the phone twice.

“Right, well, Regulus, I’d love to stay on the phone and chat about this government conspiracy, but we’ll have to do this sometime else. _I_ have some bet money to claim from Julie, and _you_ , of course, have breakfast to finish. At least, I assume you’re having breakfast. I don’t actually know. Are you having breakfast?”

“Uhh, yes…” Regulus replied distractedly. He _really_ wasn’t sure what to make of this man.

“Well, I hope it’s a good breakfast. Have fun toppling these evil wizards of yours. Oh! And if you could remind Daniel that he’s expected over with me and the wife on Sunday, there’s a good lad. He hasn’t been over for dinner in a long time. Tell him he can bring his team. Will you be coming, Regulus?”

 _Merlin_ , Regulus couldn’t help but think, _this man never shuts up, does he?_

“I won’t be coming, sir.” He said with finality.

“Ohhh, what a shame. Well, see you another time then?”

“Yes, another time.”

There was a beep on the other end, which Regulus took to mean the man had ended the call. He looked around the table as he passed the phone back to Hold.

“So, does anyone know his name?” he asked with a disgruntled frown.

Hill giggled.

“He forgot to tell you too, huh?” she said. Regulus nodded at that.

“He reminds me of my potions teacher,” he admitted “he’s very annoying but he does seem to have his uses. And he’s a touch smarter than he sounds.”

“His name is Frank Edgecombe.” Hold cut in, reaching across the table to grab a salt shaker “And you’re right – he is bloody annoying – but he knows who to trust and who not to trust, and he _is_ technically in charge of all of us, so we all just have to bare it.”

“I’d rather not.” Regulus grouched.

Tibbers rolled his eyes “Of course you’d rather not.” He sighed.

Regulus huffed and sipped at his tea moodily.

“Just make sure you don’t be too rude.” Hill suggested. She had a vaguely concerned look on her face. Regulus barely resisted from rolling his eyes again.

“Of course I’m not going to be rude. I’m a _Black_ ; we know to always be polite.” This statement wasn’t entirely truthful. Afterall, Sirius probably wouldn’t know the meaning of politeness even if Regulus smacked him in the face with a dictionary opened at the correct page with the paragraph on the word ‘polite’ highlighted with blue ink.

Tibbers was quirking an eyebrow at him.

“And yet…” he said meaningfully, before trailing off and taking a sip from his cup of coffee.

“And yet, what?” asked Regulus with a petulant frown.

“You _were_ very rude when we first met.” Elain said bluntly. Something about her spoke an air of amusement.

“Well- you were muggles.” Regulus tried. The excuse was a very bad one, if he was being honest with himself.

“And we still are.” Piped up Hill, rather unhelpfully.

“I know, you don’t have to remind me.” Regulus groaned “I just mean that I’d never met muggles before then. And you _were_ holding me prisoner.”

“It was a hospital.” Said Tibbers.

Regulus rolled his eyes “I wasn’t allowed to leave.” He reminded them.

“You were when you were better.” Hill disagreed.

“ _But_ I had to be escorted by you, and you drugged me when I tried to go off on my own.”

“That was for your own protection.” Tibbers protested.

“And for our better of mind.” Hold added “If we’d let you go off on your own we would have never known if anything would be done about that evil wizard. But you are right – you _were_ our prisoner. And even if you aren’t treated like one now, you still are one.”

Everyone on the table looked surprised at his admittance. He didn’t even look apologetic about it.

Hold continued talking “He isn’t here by his own choice, not entirely. Regulus is here because he knows that we’ll be in danger if he leaves us to our own defences. Regulus is here because I manipulated him.” He finished off his speech by getting up from the table and going over to the back of the room, through the door that marked the male toilets.

It was awkwardly silent until he returned, and then after he had returned too. Hill and Waters, of course, hadn’t known about the manipulation that had been at play. And Tibbers had likely forgotten all about it and all about how dangerous Regulus could be over the course of the night.

Waters was the one to break the silence. She told them that, as they were in the area, she was going to visit her mother later in the day. Regulus’ interests were peaked at her statement. He had to admit that he was curious about the team and their lives.

Waters didn’t say much about her mother, but there was an excited gleam in her eye, and Regulus knew that she loved her very much.

It wasn’t until later that day, while Regulus was just working himself up to taking the papers and journals he had borrowed from his father’s study out of his coat pocket, that the subject was brought up again.

“Just let me help.” Tibbers said, reaching over to take one of the books from the bed. Regulus slapped his hands away with a scowl.

“I said no, and that’s final.” He grumbled.

Tibbers huffed at him “This would go a lot quicker if you accepted some help.” He made another attempt for the books. Regulus narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Tibbers.” He warned.

“What are you gonna do?” Tibbers asked with raised eyebrows “You can’t even reach my face, you’re a tiny little brat.”

“ _Oh_ , and now you’re being _Sirius_.” Regulus muttered. Then he uncrossed his legs and reached across the bed to kick at Tibbers.

Tibbers caught his ankle easily and, however much Regulus tried to loosen the man’s grip, he couldn’t.

“Let me go!” shouted Regulus, attempting to wrench Tibbers’ fingers from his ankle. And it was then that his mind wandered off it’s course and towards darker thoughts. The hand was gripping a little too hard and reminded Regulus of things he’d rather not be reminded of.

“Not until you let me read one of the books.” Tibbers smirked.

Regulus bit at his lip and swallowed hard, feeling his eyes begin to sting.

“I-just…” he tried. Tibbers paused, a frown coming about his face. He released his grip.

“Sorry.” He muttered roughly. Regulus nodded in acknowledgement and drew the leg up towards his chest, fingers coming down to feel at his ankle.

It felt tingly and he knew that an inferi had clutched at it once.

He didn’t want to take his eyes off of it because he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be quite sure if the tingly feeling was just his imagination or a rotting hand brushing against him.

The door to his hotel room opened. Regulus looked away, digging his fingers into his skin, trying to anchor himself, and saw Waters. She looked between them with some confusion and a tiny bit of uncomfortableness.

“What is it?” Tibbers asked.

“I’ll be going now.” She told them. Regulus wasn’t sure why she felt the need to come and tell them this – she had never come to inform him before when she had gone out somewhere. And, seeing as this was Regulus’ room, it obviously wasn’t Tibbers that she wanted to tell this to.

“And?” Regulus asked shortly. It came out a bit rude and reminded him of their conversation in the café. He felt distinctly uncomfortable.

Waters shut the door and walked further into the room.

“I can’t go to my mum’s house with a gun on me.” She stated.

“And?” Regulus said again. He felt the bed shift as Tibbers got up from it. He padded across the room, increasing the uncomfortable feeling, and left with a firm shut of the door.

For a few seconds Regulus and Waters just stared at each other. When Waters finally moved it came without warning and almost made him flinch. She withdrew her gun from within her jacket.

Regulus’s face drew up into a bemused expression.

“You-you’re not going to try shooting at it again, are you?” he asked sceptically.

“No.” said Waters. And then she did something that took the breath from Regulus’ lungs.

She pointed the gun at him.

He was numbed by the shock of it and couldn’t find it in himself to move. His skin turned even lighter and his eyes felt wet.

“Y-you’re going to shoot me?” he asked as boldly as he could manage.

Waters blinked at him, then frowned.

“No, I’m offering my gun to you.” She said bluntly, the barest hint of astonishment in her voice “I wouldn’t shoot you, I don’t shoot my friends.”

“Oh.” Said Regulus. He felt awfully foolish for his question.

“Thank you.” He said awkwardly, then “I-we’re friends?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice.” Said Regulus.

“It is.” Agreed Waters. She tapped at his forehead with the gun pointedly.

“I would rather you didn’t point that at my head.” Regulus sighed, bringing his hand up to move the gun to the side “Did no one ever teach you wand safety.” He muttered under his breath.

Waters made an impatient sound and took his hand, wrapping his fingers around the gun.

“Take it, you idiot.” She chided.

“I _have_ a wand.” Regulus said petulantly.

“Well now you have a gun too. That’s extra protection, makes it harder to kill you.”

“Urghhh, fine.” Groaned Regulus. He took the gun from her and flopped down to lay on the bed, holding the… _contraption_ …up to get a better look at it.

“I still don’t trust this thing.” He told her.

“That’s okay.” Said Waters. She fell back on the bed next to him and took the gun from his hands with contentment. She spent the next few minutes giving him an improvised lesson on the mechanics of the gun, saying things like ‘this is the safety catch, don’t touch it unless you get attacked’, ‘there are nine bullets in there. Don’t waste them’, and ‘if you shoot yourself in the foot don’t tell Constantine that I gave you the gun’.

With a final parting of ‘hold it with both hands, keep your feet shoulder-width apart, don’t shoot Hold’ Waters left the room.

Regulus sighed and reached across the bed to pick up the book he’d been reading earlier. The distraction had been appreciated, he noted with annoyance.

But soon Regulus’ eyes tired of the words, which were very dull and repetitive. They trailed from the pages and across the bed, over to the coat hanging from the hook at the door.

He wasn’t sure that he had the nerve to read the journals yet, but if he didn’t have the nerve now then he feared he never would.

Regulus swallowed and got up from the bed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look - a chapter! I'm really sorry it's taking so long to write these, but I am having a lot of trouble with motivation for this fic so I hope you can be patient. Next chapter should come a bit easier, hopefully.

Bellatrix Lestrange was _not_ happy.

It had only been two days ago that she’d spotted her supposedly dead cousin in ‘The Leaky Cauldron’, sharing a meal with four muggles, and everything had escalated so quickly.

She’d thought it would be easy – break into the place where the muggles were keeping Regulus; scare him out of his mind; kill all the muggles; take him to the Dark Lord. She could not have been more wrong.

Regulus was actually interesting for the first time in his pathetic life, and Bellatrix loved nothing more than ‘interesting’. Interesting was fun, she could play with interesting. Maybe she’d played a bit too much though, maybe she’d spent too long allowing the traitor to scream.

Two of the muggles – one with ginger hair, and another with long, blonde hair – had heard them and came storming to the balcony. They’d attacked her with their muggle weapons and Bellatrix finally understood why some other purebloods supported her Lord’s cause because of fear of muggles and not their obvious superiority to the _animals_.

At some point, when Bellatrix hadn’t been paying attention, they had evolved and invented weapons and become dangerous.

Only one of the muggles had managed to hit her with their projectiles and that had been enough. Bellatrix had ran.

And because of that she couldn’t tell her Lord about Regulus – the man wouldn’t respect her at all if he found out that she’d ran from muggles.

This, of course, made her want to torture the little shit and his merry band of muggles so much more.

Only, they seemed to have anticipated that. The apartment that Regulus had been in was completely empty, purged of any evidence that he’d been there.

She could still do something though. She still knew how to find them.

Bellatrix’s eyes roved over the piece of metal she’d dug from her shoulder the previous day and felt a wicked smile come about her face.

Yes, Regulus would come to regret his traitorous actions.

* * *

 

“Who are these for then?” The old woman asked, inserting another yellow flower into the bouquet “I _would_ say boyfriend seeing as you’re such a beautiful young lady, but boys don’t usually appreciate flowers.”

Waters internally cringed at the use of the word ‘boyfriend’.

“They’re for my mother.” She said plainly.

“Ah,” the woman hummed “she likes yellow, I take it?”

Waters’ mother did, in fact, like yellow. It was her favourite colour and covered every single flowerbed in her front garden. This, however, was none of the woman’s business.

Waters gave her a blunt ‘yes’.

“Here you are then.” The woman said, handing the bouquet over with a cheery smile. Waters accepted it with a quiet thank you and began to walk out of the shop. But then, just as she got to the door, she had an idea.

“Actually,” Waters said, turning around to regard the woman with her usual deadpan look “while boys don’t usually appreciate flowers, girls do. I would like to purchase another bouquet, for my girlfriend.”

The woman looked horrified at the clarification of Waters’ relationship status, but Waters still left the shop five minutes later, two bouquets carried in her right hand – one yellow, and one pink.

* * *

 

“We’re not really doing much on this job, are we?” Hill commented as she tapped away at her Gameboy.

Tibbers shrugged. He turned the page of his magazine, idly keeping watch of the hotel lobby.

“Not at the moment, it seems we’re gonna have to sit around for a while now.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Jacob, there’s still a chance our emo teenager’s psychotic cousin will turn up to have another jab at us.” Hold said, shoes tapping loudly against the floor. He was holding his phone in his hand, as he often seemed to be, though he slipped it into his pocket when he noticed Tibbers’ questioning gaze.

He sank down into the seat next to Hill’s with a tired sigh.

“Who was on the pho-“

“I thought I sent you to help Regulus with those books.” Hold said.

“Apparently Regulus didn’t want any help.” Hill said, frowning at her Gameboy’s screen.

“ _So?_ ” said Hold, eyebrows raised “Insist. He isn’t _that_ intimidating.”

“He had a… _moment_.” Tibbers admitted.

“He wasn’t screaming, was he? You said he was screaming at his cousin the other night.”

Tibbers’ face scrunched up in annoyance.

“Are you implying that I’m as terrifying to look at as his cousin?” he asked.

Hold winced “He’s not really sound of mind. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

Hill shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Regulus’ mind, remembering how he had reacted to her implications the day before.

“I’m going to go check on him.” She said, getting up from her seat. She pressed the off button on her Gameboy and then left the room, waving awkwardly to the two men.

Though she had said she was going to check up on Regulus, she took her time getting to his hotel room. What should have been a short walk to the lift turned into a much longer walk, up three flights of stairs; then down them; out of the hotel; down the road to costa.

She emerged the café with two strawberry lemonades, two iced coffees, and four blueberry muffins. Hold and Tibbers were very happy to take the coffees and two of the muffins off of her hands when she re-entered the hotel lobby.

Finally, Hill made her way up the three flights of stairs and across the hallway to Regulus’ room. She knocked quietly on the door.

Regulus didn’t answer and Hill knocked again, slightly louder this time. This, again, got nothing.

“Regulus?” Hill whispered, bringing her knuckles against the door again “Are you asleep?”

Of course, if Regulus was asleep then he wouldn’t be able to answer.

Hill pursed her lips and knocked again.

Nothing.

 _Maybe he’s left_ , she thought. Because this was Regulus, and Regulus couldn’t seem to be able to make up his mind on whether he would be staying or going.

Hill felt a little guilty for pulling out the key card from her pocket (and all four of them had key cards to Regulus’ room. It was an invasion of privacy, but it was a _needed_ invasion of privacy) but this didn’t stop her from swiping it over the scanner.

Hill stuffed it back into her pocket, taking care not to drop the lemonades and muffins. She reached for the door and pushed it open. The curtains were pulled to over the windows, letting lose the barest sliver of light. Regulus was under the blankets, his form moving ever so slightly.

 _Asleep then_ , Hill thought. But then she heard the ragged breathing.

Regulus wasn’t asleep. Hill had interrupted him in the midst of a panic attack and now he was pretending to be asleep so that she’d leave the room.

Hill was tempted to leave him like that, allow him to believe that she hadn’t realised the state he was in. Things were a little awkward between them because of what had happened the previous day.

But, at the end of the day, she would never be able to leave the room. Hill set the lemonades and muffins down on the table beside the door and cautiously stepped forward into the room, shutting the door behind her. Regulus’ back tensed.

There was a crinkle beneath Hill’s foot and she paused. She looked down to see that the floor was littered with books and sheets of paper, which had evidently been shoved from the bed when Regulus had decided to get under the covers.

Hill stooped down and picked one of the sheets of paper up off the floor. It looked to have been ripped from a book.

“Don’t read it.”

Hill jumped. She turned to look at Regulus, who had risen from the bed. His face pale and wet, eyes puffy and red.

“Why not?” Hill asked.

Regulus shrugged, his lower jaw moving minutely as he tried to keep his emotions at bay. He rubbed at his face with his sleeve and sniffed lightly.

“You just wouldn’t like it.” He muttered, before crouching down to pick something from the floor. It was the hardcover of a book, pitch black with gold lettering that Hill couldn’t make out from where she was stood. It was missing most of its pages, which Hill supposed were on the floor.

Hill stayed quiet as Regulus went about the room, collecting the pieces of paper, a shakiness about his figure. Finally, he stopped in front of her. Hill gave him the piece of paper in her hands wordlessly. Regulus was now close enough that she could make out the letters on the book. It read ‘Orion Black’.

“What’s this then?” Hill said, trying to lighten the mood “Your great great great great great Grandpa’s journal?”

“My father’s, actually.” Regulus said quietly.

“Oh?” Hill said, sounding vaguely questioning. Her face was pulled up cautiously, as she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know more, even if she was curious.

“He’s dead.” Regulus offered. His voice was a bit too high to be normal.

“Oh. Is that…a recent development…or…”

“Recent.”

“Ah.”

Hill let out a small, panicked noise as she looked at Regulus’ vaguely distressed (though he was obviously trying not to be distressed) face.

“Why…why did you rip up your father’s journal?” Hill asked, against her better judgement.

Regulus sighed heavily and sat down on the end of the bed.

“It was my fault.” He said after a moment, eyes watery “His death, I mean.”

“I’m sure it wasn-“

“It was.” Regulus interrupted. He turned his head to look at the curtained window, blocking his pale face from Hill’s view “My father began experimenting with dark magic after I went missing. It’s all in this journal,” Regulus’ fingers tightened on the journal “he thought that if he could summon a demon they may be able to tell him where I was. Only, demons don’t exist – the world would be chaos if they did – and he must have ended up like every other idiot who tried that spell.”

“And how did every other idiot end up like?”

“Exploded.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Hill coughed lightly. Her gaze wandered towards the lemonades and muffins on the side table. She raced across the room and picked them up.

“Well, I’m sure these will help!” she exclaimed, her cheer very much fake.

Regulus looked glumly over at her.

“My father died because of me. There’s nothing that will help.” He said. Hill’s smile fell. She marched over to the bed determinedly, setting the treats on the floor.

“It’s not your fault.” She said.

“It is though.” Regulus insisted.

“It isn’t though.” Hill said, sitting down next to him and laying a hand on his shoulder. Regulus looked up with a scowl and Hill continued “Your father was an adult, and adults can make their own choices. If he decided to do something dumb, like explode, then that’s all on him, not you, and you’re an idiot if you think it is.”

Regulus startled.

“But-”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Regulus,” Hill said “so it’d be good of you not to prove me wrong.”

Regulus shifted awkwardly, and Hill’s hand on his shoulder was a very foreign presence.

“I guess I could stop being an idiot,” he muttered “Sirius is enough idiot for the both of us.”

Hill smiled and bent down to pick up the lemonades, passing one to him, which he accepted with surprised hands after putting the journal down on the bed.

“Here,” Hill said “to you not being an idiot.” She bumped the plastic cup against Regulus’, who blinked in surprise.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“What?” Hill asked.

Regulus frowned “Why did you bump your cup against mine?” he said.

Hill stared at him.

“It was a toast.” She said.

“A ‘toast’?” Regulus repeated “But there’s no toast here.”

Hill dissolved into giggles.

“Not _that_ kind of toast!” she laughed, and then sobered up long enough to mutter “I guess wizards don’t have toasts.”

Regulus huffed and took a sip of his lemonade, thinking about how strange muggles were.

* * *

 

“There.” Waters said, a small smile on her face, as she finished arranging the yellow flowers in the vase.

Her mother looked up from her knitting happily.

“It looks lovely, Elain.” She said.

Waters shrugged “Tibbers could do a better job,” she commented “he likes flowers. He should really quit the military and open a flower shop.”

Her mother laughed.

“Yes,” she said “but then he would miss your captain. You only brought him round that one time, but he was so antsy the whole time.”

“Regulus still hasn’t figured it out.” Waters said amusedly, coming around to sit at the couch.

“A new recruit?” her mother asked.

“No,” Waters said “he’s more like an important person, and we’re protecting him from,” she paused, wondering what word to use “terrorists.” She decided.

“How long has he been with you lot?”

Hill shrugged.

“Technically we’ve had him for about four months, but he was in a coma for most of that time. He’s only been awake for three weeks and already things are moving quickly.”

“Hmmm,” her mother hummed “three weeks and he still doesn’t know that the captain and Jacob are dating?”

“He’s deep in his own shit.” Waters said knowingly.

“What a vulgar expression, young lady.” Her mother chuckled.

Waters rolled her eyes and picked her phone up from the coffee table between them. She turned it on.

“Ah,” she said “it’s already five. I should get going.”

“Of course, dear,” her mother said, getting up from her chair “let me show you to the door.”

Waters nodded, picked up the pink bouquet she'd bought for Hill from the table, and the two of them made their way through the house.

“Bring Constantine over next time.” Her mother said, hugging her at the doorstep.

Waters nodded “I will.” She said.

Then she started walking down the garden path. Waters closed the gate behind her happily, though she probably didn’t look happy to anyone that was watching because her stoic professionalism had come back over her.

She walked up the street for a while, making her way back to the hotel. Something was wrong, though. Waters stopped. She was almost there, but something was wrong.

She scanned her surroundings, slowly turning her head. The high-rise buildings of London loomed around her, on all sides. It wasn’t the buildings that were the problem, she realised, someone was watching her.

Waters eyed the corner she was about the turn – the hotel was on that street – and made a decision.

“Excuse me.” She said, turning around and elbowing past the people behind her. She pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed call before holding it up to her ear.

The dial started.

* * *

 

“Huh?”

Regulus looked up from the book he was reading.

“What is it?” he asked.

Hill held up her phone dejectedly.

“It’s ran out of battery.” She complained.

The word went right over Regulus’ head. He frowned, trying to remember if any of his muggle friends (even he had to admit that they weren’t acquaintances anymore) had ever mentioned something called battery.

“Maybe it just needs a rest?” Regulus tried “You said that it ran out of battery, and after running you need a rest, right?”

Hill muffled a giggle with her hand.

“Not _that_ kind of running, Regulus. Wow, you really _are_ hopeless, aren’t you.” she teased. Then she stopped, a look of horror coming about her “Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that! I don’t really think you’re-”

“Hill,” Regulus smiled “I have a brother. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

“Ah, right.” Hill laughed “Me and my sister never tease each other, so it’s a bit weird to start doing it now.”

“Well, that’s because you have a sister. Brothers are the worst.” Regulus informed her knowledgeably.

Hill shifted, gazing over at Regulus with soft eyes.

“I don’t know about that.” She said.

“Huh?” Regulus frowned.

Hill started. She flushed bright red.

“I-it’s just,” she squeaked “I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

Regulus squinted his eyes.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus: brothers suck  
> Hill, looking at him: I don't know about that  
> Regulus: what?  
> Hill: I've always wanted a little brother  
> Regulus: ??? what a weird muggle  
> Me: bitch, she means you're the little brother she's never had
> 
> I am admittedly, very invested in Hill's and Regulus' relationship.
> 
> By the way, I am, in fact, a lesbian against killing off lesbians. So I'm just gonna put it out there that no lesbians are dying in the making of this story and Waters is not gonna die.
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr over here: https://achairwithapandaonit.tumblr.com/


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn't think I'd take less than a month to update! Jokes aside, I'm quite happy with this chapter, although I haven't read it through so I have no idea how good it is.

Waters crushed the bouquet of pink flowers against her chest and sped up. Her phone was held at her ear with clammy fingers.

 _Come on, come on,_ she thought, _pick up!_

She didn’t have a gun, she’d given that to Regulus just a few hours before, so there wasn’t a chance of attacking long range. Whoever was following her wasn’t likely to be held down by the same restraint.

Waters swore as the dial ended once again. She pulled the phone from her ear with a scowl and tapped on Hold’s name in her contact list before pressing call. The phone rang once, twice. Waters brought it to her ear hopefully but-

The phone flew from her hand, crashing along the ground and sliding to a stop a few feet from her. Waters whirled around, fingers stinging from whatever it was that had hit her.

Ah. She was in a lot of trouble.

There, at the end of the street, was Regulus’ cousin. How she had found her, Waters did not know. She could have been wandering the streets of London, hoping to bump into them eventually, or she could have just used magic, because apparently magic could do a lot of things.

Regulus’ cousin didn’t look like your average citizen. Her dark hair was tangled, her eyes wild, and her clothes extravagant. If Waters hadn’t already surmised that Regulus’ family was rich she would have now.

“What do you want?” Waters called out. She wanted to step back and check on her phone, see if it was still working, but Bellatrix would see that as a weakness and attack.

“You know what I want.” The witch snickered. There was something condescending about her tone, something cruel.

“Regulus.” Waters acknowledged.

Bellatrix cackled at that. She dissolved into laughter, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Waters saw her chance. She dashed forward at a run, dropping the bouquet as she shoved her fingers up her sleeve, retrieving a small pocketknife.

While she was against bringing weapons into her mother’s house, she didn’t feel safe without something on her, never had. It was alright to keep pocketknives on her person because she’d done so since she was young and it was completely different from bringing a gun with her.

 _Wouldn’t it be good if we could capture this woman_ , Waters thought.

They could interrogate her, find out things that Regulus didn’t know about the racist wizard cult. Regulus was young and irresponsible and wouldn’t have been told everything.

Bellatrix looked up then. Their eyes met.

From this far, Waters would never get a chance to strike before Bellatrix was shooting off spells. The only thing for it was to throw the knife.

* * *

 

“How can you read any of these?” Hill asked in wonderment as she flicked through a heavy tome called ‘The Philosophy of Magic’ “They’re so boring.”

“No book is boring.” Regulus said.

“Liar.” Hill accused.

It was true. Regulus was lying.

The door to their room opened then, without warning. Regulus and Hill both sat up quickly, reaching for their weapons.

“Hey! It’s just us.” Tibbers exclaimed, holding his hands up placatingly. There was a rectangular bag slung around his shoulder and Hold was standing just behind him.

Regulus let out a sigh and drew his hand away from his wand holster.

“Come on then, into the room.” Hold said impatiently, pushing at Tibbers’ shoulders. Tibbers rolled his eyes but continued. Hold shut the door behind them.

“Has something happened?” Hill asked.

Tibbers set the rectangular bag onto the bed and unzipped it, pulling out a thin, metal cuboid.

“Elain called my phone.” Hold told them, holding his phone up to show them the screen, where the words ‘Elain Waters’ were written just below a small picture of the woman pulling a disgusted face and above a series of numbers “She hasn’t said anything, and that’s worrying.”

“We’re gonna track her phone.” Tibbers said, lifting the top of the metal cuboid up and pushing it further down the bed, into the middle. Hill and Regulus both scooted over to see. There was a screen on the thing, much like a phone’s screen.

“What is it?” Regulus asked.

“A phone?” Hold frowned.

“No, that.” Regulus said, pointing at the offending item.

“It’s a laptop.” Hill said distractedly, worry pulling at her brow.

Regulus wanted to ask what it did but there was a time and a place, and this wasn’t it. Besides, Tibbers had said they were tracking Elain’s phone, so that must have been the role of the laptop.

 _It must be like a tracking spell,_ Regulus thought. His eyes widened.

“Do you want me to try a tracking spell?” he asked.

“I don’t know how it works but please do. Since she’s not answering her phone it’s likely that she’s not in the same place as it.” Hold said. Regulus wasn’t even surprised anymore by his seriousness. Hold was the leader of this group for a reason.

“Does anyone have a map?” Regulus asked.

“Will google maps do?” Tibbers said, he elaborated at Regulus’ confused look “It’s a map of the world. You can find it on google.”

This answered nothing but they really didn’t have enough time for it anyway.

“It should be fine.” Regulus said.

He got up from the bed, thinking. He needed something of Waters’, something small.

 _The gun!_ , he realised. The projectiles inside were very small. Regulus headed over to the chair side table beside the bed and took the gun from it. Waters had never told him how to open it up, however, or even if it was possible to open it up.

“How do I open it?” Regulus asked, sitting back on the bed and holding the gun up. Hold frowned and reached across the bed to snatch it from his fingers.

“You want the bullets?” Hold asked, fingers moving quickly over the gun.

“I just need one.” Regulus told him. Hold nodded and passed one over.

Hill then asked if he needed the map now and Regulus agreed. Tibbers moved the laptop over the bed, in front of Regulus. There was a map on the screen. Regulus shoved the laptop so that the screen was facing upwards and placed the bullet on top of it before reaching for his wand.

“Invenire dominus hoc pertinentes.” Regulus chanted, drawing the wand over his hand. He winced as the magic cut into his palm, causing blood to run from it and drip down onto the laptop.

“That better come off.” Tibbers muttered, and everyone except for Regulus seemed to be disturbed at the use of blood for the spell. They had found the spell in an old book years ago – Regulus, Sirius, and their cousins. It was unfortunate that his father had not seen the book.

It wasn’t as if he would have successfully been able to use it anyway. The spell required a small item that completely belonged to the person you were trying to find and the only thing that Regulus had like that were his paint tubes, which he’d hidden under protective spells years ago to stop Sirius from destroying them.

The blood pooled over the laptop, working by some unseen force to cover the screen completely. Once this was done, the bullet began to spin. Regulus decided that this most likely meant that he had given enough blood for the spell. He pulled the hand from the laptop and muttered a healing spell to seal the cut.

Where the bullet span, the blood heated and turned to steam, leaving only a pink stain behind. Regulus watched with a little confusion as the map seemed to become larger at a terrifyingly fast rate. Names of streets came and went and then it stopped. There was a second of silence.

“Where does it sa-” Hill began to say. She never got further though, because the bullet chose that moment to give off a loud crackle and launch itself from the laptop and into the ceiling. A rain of dust showered down on them all as they slowly looked up.

“Damn.” Hold muttered.

“Damn indeed.” Regulus found himself agreeing. He blinked, realising that he’d copied Hold. Regulus glared over at him and received a smirk in return.

“She’s in a back alley.” Hill told them, pointing at the screen. There was a red arrow there and it was moving about rapidly. Waters was in a fight, it seemed.

“Okay, we’ll take the car.” Hold said, standing from the bed and turning to his two subordinates “Jacob, get it started. I’ll meet you down there. Constantine, stay here and protect Regulus.”

Both Regulus and Hill balked at this order.

“If you think I’m gonna stay behind when Elain might be in trouble then you’re mistaken, captain.” Hill said, her voice angry and cold.

Hold looked down at her.

“You’re my team,” he said “I’ll make sure she comes back safely.”

Hill gritted her teeth.

“Fine,” she snapped “go.”

Hold nodded to her and exited the room, Tibbers following after him. The door closed.

The laptop took this as a chance to let out several sparks. Regulus looked at it curiously.

“Is it…gonna explode?” Hill asked with a frown. Regulus’ eyes widened.

Was it?

He reached across the bed to pull at Hill’s arm and she moved to sit next to him, both of them staring at the laptop with concern. Regulus brought his wand up as several more sparks crackled in the air.

“Protego?” he muttered questioningly, allowing an opaque green shield to form between the two of them and the laptop. The laptop began to emit a loud whirring sound.

“Silencio!” Regulus shouted, just before the laptop let out one, final spark and exploded. Scraps of metal banged across the room and off of the magic shield in complete and utter silence. Where the laptop had been, a fire began to start. Hill gasped, jumping from the bed to pick up her discarded lemonade from earlier. She upended it over the flames, which fizzled to nothing. Regulus let down the shield and silencing charms with a sigh.

“Right, we’re going now.” Hill said, turning to stare at Regulus determinedly. Regulus nodded.

“We’re going now.” He repeated.

* * *

 

Waters ducked under another spell and ran at the witch. There was a shallow cut on Bellatrix’s cheek, courtesy of Waters’ knife.

“Just give up, _filth!_ ” Bellatrix screeched. She seemed very angry that none of her spells were successfully hitting Waters.

Still, Waters had been darting around for a while now. Sooner or later she would run out of energy.

Bellatrix shot off a spell, which shattered a window to the side of Waters’ head, and let out an agitated snarl.

“Would you just stay still!”

Wizards and witches were apparently not too good at hitting moving targets. Or, at least, this witch wasn’t.

Finally, Waters had managed to get close. She pushed off of the side of a building to add a burst to her speed and swung at Bellatrix with her fist. It connected, barely, glancing across Bellatrix’s blood-stained cheek.

Time seemed to slow down. Bellatrix’s wand hand came up, as did Waters’ knee. The knee impacted heavily with Bellatrix’s stomach a second before Waters found herself being flung through the air.

Her body hit the building behind her and she crumpled to the ground with a loud thump. She groaned, slowly picking herself up onto her elbows.

Bellatrix was watching her with wide, enraged eyes, an arm clutching at her stomach, her cheek bloody and promising a bruise. Her wand twitched upwards with a muttered, “Cruciatus.”

A sudden pain swept along Waters’ body, like nothing she’d ever felt before. It felt like the day her father died and like every single part of her body, inside and out, was touching the top of a hot stove, but somehow more. Waters screamed, collapsing from her half-raised position and banging her chin on the ground. Her fingers clawed at the ground and the strangled scream cut off as she clenched her teeth. She wouldn’t give the witch this, not when she seemed to crave them so much.

“Oh? What’s this?” Bellatrix’s mocking voice called against the fogginess of Waters’ mind. Her footsteps echoed against the paved ground and she stepped over Waters’ downed body with purpose.

Waters struggled to raise her upper body. She turned round, a slight hiss escaping from her, teeth grinding, body shaking.

Bellatrix bent down and held out something pink. Flowers. Constantine’s flowers.

“I guess I’ll burn these. Whatever trash you were going to give them to doesn’t deserve them.”

Bellatrix raised her wand but―

Waters was quicker.

She let out a scream again, this time more anger than pain, as she forced her hand down into her boot and withdrew a knife. The knife cut upwards, drawing a red path against Bellatrix’s face.

The flowers fell from her grip. Bellatrix reeled backwards, staggering to her feet, hands gripping at her face, wand pressed awkwardly against it.

Her previous spell seemed to lose its effect and Waters was left heaving against the concrete ground, pink flowers just in view. She pulled herself up onto her knees, snatched the flowers up off the ground, and glared up at Bellatrix.

“My girlfriend is worth ten of you, _worm_.” She spat out.

“ _Worm?!_ ” Bellatrix screeched, her wild eyes just visible under her gripping fingers “How _dare_ you!”. Her wand hand fell away from her bloody face and Waters barely heard the word ‘diffindo’ before she was slumped down on the ground against, clutching at her bleeding stomach.

She couldn’t help but think that the flowers were going to stain.

* * *

 

“This way!” Hill shouted, grabbing onto Regulus’ arm and dragging him down a side alley. Regulus didn’t resist – she knew the streets of muggle London better than he did.

“Do you think we’ll get there before the other two?” Regulus asked over his panting breaths.

“Of course we are,” Hill said “this is London. Those idiots will get stuck in traffic!”. There was something about her that Regulus had never seen before. She looked angry and determined and desperate.

“Why didn’t Hold want us to come?” Regulus found himself asking.

Hill scowled even harder and said, “He thinks I’ll mess up because Elain and I are dating. What a hypocritical _bastard!_ ”

“Hypocritical?”

“Yes!” Hill spat, though she didn’t elaborate “ _And_ apparently now that there’s an actual crisis you’re apparently defenceless and need to be protected! Not that I don’t think you need to be protected, because you’re really reckless, but you’d be fine staying at the hotel by yourself. The danger’s where Elain is, not there!”

Regulus wasn’t sure whether to be insulted by that or not. When someone said that a Black was reckless they were usually talking about Sirius, not him.

He decided it would be easier to be angry at Hold instead of Hill for thinking he needed protection.

“Do you have any idea what’s happening with Waters?” Regulus asked then. Hill turned to regard him with a confused expression, footsteps never faltering.

“It’s your cousin, isn’t it?” she asked.

Regulus blinked. _Oh._ That made sense.

She’d probably even used the same spell as he had to find Waters, she _had_ been there when they’d discovered it. And the bullet that Waters had shot at her might have gotten stuck in her body, so she would have had the perfect material for the spell.

They turned a corner and-

“ _Get away from my girlfriend, you bitch!_ ” Hill hollered, voice straining from the intensity of her anger.

Regulus just about caught a glimpse of Waters lying curled up on the ground, Bellatrix standing over her with a bloody face, before the loud bang of a gun sounded. One of Hill’s hands was curled around Regulus’ wrist, the other was holding a gun.

Waters had said to hold it with _both_ hands. Regulus tugged his wrist from Hill’s tight grip and hoped that she’d take the chance to hold the gun properly.

This was not the case, however, as Hill took another gun from the inside of her jacket. It was Waters’ gun, the one she’d given Regulus earlier in the day. He’d completely forgotten about it.

Bellatrix had managed to avoid the first shot, but she couldn’t avoid the next shot. She stumbled back, looking furious and pained.

Regulus wasn’t sure how Hill could take her on like this, how she could face down _Bellatrix_ without a hint of fear. All he had to do was look her in the eye and he found himself shaking, feeling violently ill. She was terrifying.

But at this moment, Hill was scarier.

She fired again, with both guns. One shot went wide, another hit Bellatrix’s wand arm. Bellatrix had never stood a chance, Regulus realised.

The witch took off down the alley, spitting insults and slurs, and Hill chased after her. Bellatrix had _never_ stood a chance.

Regulus stumbled across the alley on shaking legs and kneeled down next to Waters, feeling strangely relieved, happy. Bellatrix was being beaten by a _muggle_.

Waters’ chest was moving up and down unsteadily. That was a good sign – it meant she was alive. Regulus set a hand down on her stomach, where all the blood seemed to be coming from. He raised his wand to the injury, scanning his brain for healing spells.

None of them would be able to do much for Waters, but he would hopefully be able to keep her alive until an ambulance arrived.

 _And how did you summon one,_ Regulus wondered. Had Tibbers summoned it the other night? Or had it been one of those muggles? Did the ambulance just automatically know when to come? No, it couldn’t. This was the muggle world, and they didn’t work like that.

This was bad. At this rate Waters was going to-

No. Tibbers and Hold would get there soon, and they’d know what to do. Regulus had to keep faith.

There was a loud sound further up the alley, and then a thump came afterwards. Tapping of shoes against pavement. Hill’s hand clutched at his shoulder, her furious eyes bore into his. There was a bloody streak across the right side of her forehead and a bruise forming on the bridge of her nose.

“Tibbers said you don’t know anything about first aid, let me handle this. Tie your cousin up.” She ordered.

Regulus nodded and stood up, faintly registering as Hill fished her phone from her pocket.

He could do this. He could tie Bellatrix up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold and Tibbers? Useless. Those idiots got stuck in traffic.
> 
> Anyway, they've now captured Bellatrix, so we don't have to worry about her springing up from nowhere with murder on her mind.
> 
> Also, my plans for later parts of this story have really changed because I didn't think they would fit in so much with the team that Regulus and the muggles are becoming. So if I've chatted to anyone about my plans for the future of this fic then they have most definitely changed, though I have got half a chapter of another Regulus fic that has one of the ideas I was going to go with in it drafted out in my documents, so there's that.
> 
> From my chapter plans, it looks like Sirius is going to have a small appearance in the next chapter btw, for anyone that was hoping to catch a glimpse of Regulus' illusive brother.


End file.
